A True and Magical Adventure
by alatarial1328
Summary: DISCLAIMER: I don't own the characters, I borrowed them, if you haven't met their stories yet, how did you find this fic? Go and read them first and I'll see you in a minute! Back? Good, now on with the show! BTW there is a bit of confusion re time scale up to chapter 8, but I will fix this once story is complete :) MA for naughtiness! You've been warned ;)
1. Rises in the West, Sets in the East

**Chapter 1 - Rises in the West, Sets in the East**

 _Someday, somehow_

 _I'm gonna make it alright, but not right now_

 _I know you're wondering when…_

 _Nickelback - Someday_

"Warm…it's just too darn warm!"

Sookie attempted to roll out of bed in the early hours of that inexcusably hot Louisiana morning, her clothes sticking to her as she disentangled herself from the long, strong and radiating arms of her soul mate. Whenever it ran close to the moon, Sam seemed to notch up the heat and, although much appreciated when first getting to bed, the warmth became uncomfortable after a few hours of snuggling. Just as Sookie thought she could feel a cool January breeze breaking across her skin, she was yanked back into the vice like hug, Sam running his nose up and down the back of her neck and nuzzling her hair. She even had to double check, she was sure he was purring softly, not that she would be surprised if he did. Hanging with Jason and his little pack for the last few moons had Sam roaming the woods around their home as a sleek and, dare she say, sexy black panther, all long whiskers and sharp claws. Sometimes, when Sookie felt restless at all the activities in her forests, she would go for a walk amongst the wilds, occasionally seeing the pack enjoying fun and games or hunting rabbits and deer. She had to admit, having so many weres on her property at full moon definitely kept the forest well maintained and the game numbers to a reasonable level. Between Alcide's werewolf pack and Jason's pack made up of Hotshot juveniles, she barely had to take a gun to the woods anymore.

"I need to get up or I'll be late for work, and my boss gets mighty fussy when I don't turn up bright and early…"

The arms around her tightened and a growl escaped Sam's lips. His rough tongue ran up the length of her neck and nibbled on her earlobe, followed by his sleep-drunk, gruff voice whispering in her ear two delicious words…

"Fuck him!"

"Well…If you insist, Mr Merlotte…"

"That I do, Mrs Merlotte, get your ass up here now…"

Sookie let out a squeal as Sam rolled her full body as if she were light as a feather to have her straddling him, a wolfish grin crossing his face as he surveyed her pert nipples breaking through the wet cloth of her nightdress. Maybe he had been hanging with Alcide more than she realised…

Within a moment and flurry of frenzied movements, Sookie felt her now nude body sinking onto her lover, warm honey eyes meeting her own and shining with adoration and respect. Sookie felt her stomach flutter as she moaned at the sensation of being slowly filled, her back arching against Sam's firm grip on her hips. It was in that moment, when he was fully submerged inside of her, their bodies entwined together in a loving embrace, that she felt an overwhelming pull, a tug so violent she shed tears of joy and love. This was her man, all of him, and she was never letting anyone or anything come between them. She moved slowly, circling her hips whilst trying to ensure every inch of him was engulfed by her, soothing her aching need. With every small circle, Sam began to push inside her, reaching her depths and hissing as he made contact with her cervix. Sookie's eyes closed and she moaned loudly, picking up the pace as his thrusts became more energetic. Sam let out a low growl as his fingers dug deeper into her supple hips, making her gasp and her eyes fly open.

"Bend over" he gruffly announced, flinging her onto all fours with the strength of the moon coursing through his veins. He dragged his fingers down her spine and entered her roughly whilst she panted wildly beneath him, his hard thrusts increasing as she bucked to meet his ardour. She was close, and he took in a deep breath to take in her musky, feminine scent. Sweat mingled with sweat as the couple braced themselves for orgasm, tightening and pulling at each other in a desperate need to find sweet release. With a final thrust, Sam pulled at the loose braid Sookie wore for bed and held her shoulder firmly in place, forcing Sookie into a cascading bliss that rippled through her body. As she came, the room became brighter as her light magic spilled from her, circling them both in its protective glow. The sated pair collapsed into an exuberant heap of arms and legs, wrapping themselves around each other and enjoying the post orgasmic freedom.

"I still gotta go to work…" Sookie whimpered as she stretched in Sam's masculine arms.

"Yeah…don't want your boss giving you trouble," Sam let out with a smirk, finally releasing her and laying with his arms behind his head.

Sookie stood, shakily at first, and shook her head playfully, hands on hips, as she looked at her husband.

"You look like the panther that's got the cream! You know you need to get up for work too, your boss will have a fit and a bad turn if you aren't there to help her open up…"

"That's what I'm sure I just did…" Sam laughed, his eyes mirthful and as he rolled himself over to her side of the bed.

"Sam Merlotte, get your beautiful butt out of this bed and come help me open the bar before we both end up spending another day in bed!" Sookie swatted his shoulder and heard another growl escape his lips.

"Move, wench, before I take you up on your offer…" Sam stood, smacking her playfully, though slightly harder than she expected, on the behind as he sauntered, naked and glorious, to the bathroom. It took Sookie a few seconds to respond, her body already lightly humming at the thought of a repeat performance.

"Hey, I didn't offer nothing…Sam you best not take long in the bathroom, I'm not going all the way downstairs to use the guest room!"

Sookie grabbed her clothes and make up bag, resigned to having to hot foot it down to the dreaded guest bathroom, knowing Sam would priss and preen just to make sure they both were 'too late to leave now'.

Making her way down the stairs, Sookie glanced quickly at the newly renovated guest room. She couldn't tell what compelled her to do such a thing, she had no need to look in there as they didn't have guests since Jason and the kids had stayed over last month for Christmas. Sookie froze and looked again at the space that held her emergency vampire cubby. The carpet covering the bottom of the faux bottomed wardrobe had moved, the doors were open, the boxes covering the secret entrance pulled back. Someone was in there…the questions buzzing around Sookie's mind was simple. 'Who the hell is in my house and why the hell are they here?'.

_.oOo._

'Cold, so very cold'.

And then darkness.

Severus felt the warmth of sunlight on his face and hands, and the brightness of the world beyond his closed eyelids was enough to tease him to consciousness. He opened his eyes warily, looking around at the white walls, floor and ceiling of his new surroundings. No longer was he in the Shrieking Shack, slumped against a wall. His hands shot to his neck and he felt the smooth skin, not a single scar. He could have sworn that overgrown worm had bitten him on the neck…several times if he could recall before losing consciousness.

"Ah, my dear boy, I was hoping to see you a lot later than now! But always a pleasure, old chap!"

Severus snapped his head around quickly to the sound of the warm, familiar voice, momentarily speechless as he met wise, mischievous, twinkling eyes looking down at him. Dumbledore held out a newly restored hand, one that looked slightly more youthful than the last time Severus had seen him.

"Albus?" Severus couldn't recognise his own voice, it was light and breathy, nothing like his usual rumbling drawl. Checking himself over as he took Dumbledore's hands, Severus noted his clothes had changed. He was back in his school uniform, his tie impeccably made as it always had been, his trousers slightly too short and his shirt slightly off the usual white, worn from years of recycling the same outfit. Severus shuddered at the reminder of his poverty and neglect, looking again at a younger Albus Dumbledore. The brightness of his surroundings was driving him to squinting, but he knew who he saw.

"Albus, am I…?" Severus gulped back his first year voice, quiet and meek, and finally, knowing his balance was renewed, let go of Dumbledore's hand. The older man smiled warmly at Severus and folded his hands behind his back in his usual stance, eyes constantly trained on Severus's movements, like a cat watching a bird dancing on the window sill.

"Well, old boy, that in itself is a difficult question to answer. You can be, if you wish to be, but I feel you still have great things to achieve, wonders to explore, and the game has only just begun". Dumbledore turned and started to walk away, to wherever away may be in terms of a room with no beginning, no end, and bright, white light. Severus looked more confused than ever, he hated feeling this way and being left in the dark, metaphorically speaking.

"I guess you will require further explanation. I'm afraid I cannot simply give it to you, but I can say you have work to do, if you want to do me one last favour…" Severus watched as Dumbledore started to fade into the nothing ahead, and began to pick up pace to reach him.

"You are not the only one here in need of help and guidance, and it is a great task to ask you to put aside your own pain and suffering to alleviate that of others. I have faith in you dear boy, always have, and faith itself is all we have against the darkness." Dumbledore turned then to face Snape once more and looked him in the eye. He looked older again, back to the Dumbledore who recently passed. Severus noted his robes had changed from a vibrant Gryffindor red and gold to a much darker Ravenclaw blue and silver. Checking himself, Severus saw that he had changed to his usual black attire, the sweeping cloak and black robes draping to the ground.

"What is this place?" Severus scowled, looking around himself once more, and seeing nothing.

"Why, you're in a place between the very fabric of existence. You are within the Veil. A place very few have ever known to return. And there are those here who require your assistance…and mine…"

The old man looked wistful, then, and somewhat sad at the turning of the world beyond the tranquillity of the Veil. Severus bit back another, less functional question, and went for the jugular, knowing there would always be something barbed to a request from the old coot.

"What do I need to do?" Severus said, scepticism dripping from his now rich, velvety growl of a voice. Dumbledore looked at him, his face growing paler and more drawn as he began to speak, fading into the light slowly until his last word, barely a whisper, marked the departure from all worlds one of the most powerful of all wizards.

"Well, this war has taken many lives, and whilst here the world outside has moved forwards, it is now the dawn of a new age. I must be pressing on, I've had quite the busy evening. Before I depart, I need you to carry on my work and find the two lost souls roaming here, send them home. You just be quick for one is fading fast as he has been here for so long awaiting his return, body and soul, the other...he will need you to bring him back with you…Find them…Save them, Severus…"

Severus felt a single tear roll down his cheek, which he quickly wiped away. 'Trust the old fool to give me no idea how I am meant to find these two men, or who I am even bloody well looking for! Knowing him, I won't enjoy what I find when I find it…', Snape thought surveying the surroundings once again. As his eyes adjusted to the bright lights, he could make out shapes in the far distance, drifting slowly to and fro. He approached the shapes, casting long shadows that travelled across the floor as if illuminated from behind, like standing in front of flood lights. As Severus grew closer still, he saw the two shaped were wrapped in a tight embrace, but their features were smoky and blurred with the light around them cutting out their shapes in a way that sent a chill through his spine. Ghosts. Was he looking for ghosts?

Severus drew closer to the figures and realised that one shadow was dappled in brightness, yet one was darker, more substantial, more solid. He seemed to be walking for hours, or maybe minutes, he could not say. He felt no pain or time or space except that he was nearing the direction in which he walked. The closer he drew, the more he made out the shapes clinging desperately to each other. Finally he drew close enough to make out distinct features, the light being blocked mainly by the heavy figure. Severus abruptly stopped in his tracks as he finally took in the two figures gripped in a loving embrace. He growled low in his throat and looked up to the ceiling of the place. 'That twisted old bastard…'.

_.oOo._

Sookie tiptoed back to her bedroom, the thought of cleaning for work soon forgotten with her latest discovery. Just when she thought everything had settled comfortably into place, with peace and quiet ruling her harmonious home, out from under the rug comes a new big bad problem to solve. Realising that, whoever it may be, they most certainly would not be awake enough to hear her moving around the home, she resolutely stepped into the master bathroom and sighed as she watched her lover, her best friend, her husband, dry himself down with a towel, his shaggy golden red mane of hair hanging just in front of his eyes. She couldn't help but gawp, even after two years of happily married life, not that she hadn't seen Sam plenty before they finally tied the knot. It had been five whole years since the dramas that the vampire community of Bon Temps had caused, five years since the final fight for Faerie, five years since she put all of that behind her and enjoyed just being a one man woman with no complications, troubles, stress or strife that resulted in her black, blue or basking in the glow of vampire blood dripped into her mouth before she died. Again. She couldn't believe how lucky her life had turned out, how much she had been through to get to this stage. Sookie Stackhouse, telepath, mad woman, fang-banger, blond, big-breasted and heartbroken was behind her and now Sookie Merlotte, confident, overwhelmingly loved, calm and collected remained in her wake. She shook her head to get back on task as Sam turned and winked at her before tying the towel around his waist.

"Enjoying the show, cher?"

"Can't complain, although I think we have an unexpected guest…"

Sookie inclined her head into the hall, and Sam instantly went on alert, following her to the spare bedroom and taking a deep sniff before wrinkling his nose and letting out a very cat-like sneeze.

"Vampire. Blergh, all I can smell is death. I can also smell blood, not just that usual metallic smell, it's something stronger than that…" Sam walked over to the cubby and held out his arm to keep Sookie from following him before flinging open the hatch.

"Oh sweet baby Jesus, Shepherd of Judea!" Sookie exclaimed as she instantly recognised the long, well-maintained blonde hair, the pale skin and broad shoulders, one of which had a strange scar that looked like it was originally a heavy gash that was slowly healing. Sookie closed her eyes and groaned. Why the hell was Eric nestled quite comfortably it seemed in her cubby, and what, after five long years, did he want?

Sookie had last seen Eric the night they parted ways, that final night where he had made his choice and gone with the Vampire Queen of Oklahoma to make her life merry hell. Eric had been an all-consuming love, a heated and dangerous affair where Sookie had even been duped into a Vampire wedding with the stormy Nord. Deep down, Sookie would always love Eric, in her own way, as she would always love the man who first broke her heart, Bill Compton. Ironically, it solidified in her mind that she and vampires could never settle together. Besides, she had found the one, her soul mate, and no doubts even entered her mind of her state of being now. That comfort didn't distract from her confusion, and Sam's look of pure disdain spoke volumes of what his mind was working on. She didn't need to be a telepath to know he was pissed. Really pissed. His anger rolled off of his in swathes, and she touched his arm lightly to try to settle his ire. Sam looked at her with blank, dark eyes, and turned abruptly to leave the room. He needed to cool off before he ripped Eric from the cubby and started beating on him. Sookie let him go, taking the opportunity to check Eric over to see if he had the forethought to at least write a note somewhere to suggest why he felt it prudent to invade her ancestral home and presume he could use her cubby space. Her magic hummed around her in frustration as she found nothing to discern his stay, and she was even more frustrated to find him completely nude within the crawl space, his clothing neatly folded at his side. She had half a mind to take it and throw it on the porch, but she knew Eric better than that. Humble was most certainly _not_ Eric's middle name. Arrogant. Rude. Brash. Narcissistic. They probably began to cover it. She sighed and covered over the cubby, there was nothing more she could do except locate and placate her beloved.

Sookie traced Sam to the edge of the woods. He was breathing deeply, taking comfort from the damp woodlands and great outdoors. Sookie touched his arm and he flinched, but then turned and encompassed her in his arms, pulling her close to his bare chest and sticking his nose in her hair.

"Mine, my mate" he muttered, and kissed her soundly, drawing her up from the ground to meet him levelly. She threw her legs around his waist for support and murmured her concurrence, never breaking the kiss. When he finally placed her gently back on the ground, she looked into his eyes deeply, searching for her husband, willing him to resurface and let the animal slink back again. It did, but Sam still held her possessively as they retreated to the porch swing. They sat and Sookie curled up in his arms.

"I guess we aren't going to work today, huh? Shall I get Hoyt or Terry to open up shop?"

Sam simply nodded as he watched the forest with a wistful longing. If only he could go for a run, clear his head, take Sookie with him. Sookie picked up his thoughts in broken, jarred moments. His anger had given way to confusion and curiosity. He looked down at her, properly, for the first time since their discovery, and kissed her forehead. She smiled and settled back in his arms, bracing herself for the next question.

"So….Nordic elephant in the room time, what do you think he's doing in our cubby?"

Sam seemed to not hear, or not want to hear, and simply huffed before standing up and entering the house again, leaving Sookie on her own to ponder. She felt the loss keenly, like it was somehow her fault that Eric was stowed away in her home.

It cheered her to see Sam returning with two large mugs of steaming coffee, returning to the porch swing with a heavier thud than needed. He handed her a mug and smiled at him.

"I needed coffee before really getting into the who's, what's and why's."

Sookie nodded and let out the smallest of relief filled sighs. She was happy Sam had settled down now, but she knew he couldn't be pressed for more than the comfortable silence that had fallen between them. All of a sudden, Sam stood once more. He quickly walked into the house, retrieved his mobile phone, and punched a number in before holding the receiver to his ear, his arms crossed protectively across his chest. He looked at Sookie and winked before the call connected.

"Yeah hi, I'm Sam Merlotte, put me through to someone who's been there more than five minutes. I need to talk to someone about a special gift I've found in our family house. Yeah I'll wait, but don't make me wait too long, otherwise I'm jumping in my pick up and driving down to…ok thank you…"

Sookie took the time to text a couple of the day workers to open up, and a couple of staff to cover the evening shifts while her and Sam sorted this hot mess out.

"Hi. I guess you're Pam's new day guy. Well we have a situation here, is there something going on me and Sook need to know about?"

Sam nodded, barely saying anything, occasionally making basic understanding noises, for a good ten minutes. Sookie watched, fascinated, until finally he wrapped up the call and sat down heavily next to her once more.

"So, Eric is here, everyone knows he's here, because he was sent here. Apparently he was approached by an extremely dark wizard whilst touring Europe with the Queen of Oklahoma. She's dead."

Sookie took that much information before a high pitched ringing filled her ears and she found herself channelled out of Sam's speech. She heard tit-bits, like 'wizards', 'witches', 'dark magic' and a name that was repeated 'Harry Potter', but she couldn't process what she was hearing. She sat, numb and open mouthed, starring into the woods as she had found Sam doing, her brain a fuzzy, mushy mess.

Sam finally pulled her into another hug and slowly began to draw circles on her back with his large, powerful, assured hands.

"There were whispers in the were community of something going on over there, but we never knew how bad it got. And you know what weres and vamps are like with their own affairs, everything is kept so tightly under wraps. Apparently this Voldemort amassed an army and tried to recruit Oklahoma and Eric as the strongest in the US, and hoped to stretch out across the States. Eric had refused, and Freya had agreed with his counsel. The wizard cursed Freya and ended up killing her, and Eric fled with his life. He came back here, but wasn't sure if he would be followed, so he's pretty much been in hiding up til now. Cleveland, Pam's new day guy, gave me the basic run down that they are calling it the 'Second Wizarding War', and by all accounts that Voldemort guy is dead now, all thanks to this kid, this 17 year old and his two friends. Problem is, if it's all over, why the hell is _he_ here?"

Sookie shook her head, not knowing what to say, how to respond. What on earth was going on here?

"I need a shower, or maybe a hot bath, there's nothing we can do until we get hold of Eric tonight, see what the heck it is he wants, then get back to our normal life!"

"We've had normal for five years, to be fair I don't think we can have a life without a little bit of drama for too long, baby girl."

Sookie nestled into Sam's protective embrace and closed her eyes, praying to Jesus, God and all the saints that this would all blow over and she would be able to return to normal once more.


	2. Guillotine

**Chapter 2 - Guillotine**

 _The secrets you tell me, I'll take to my grave_

 _There's bones in my closet, but you hang stuff anyway_

 _And if you have nightmares, we'll dance on the bed_

 _I know that you love me, love me_

 _Even when I lose my head_

 _Jon Bellion - Guillotine_

"Why could you not have just let yourself fade, Black, rather than needing rescuing _once again_?" Snape sneered, looking from one man to the other.

"Snivellus! Just when I thought I wouldn't see your beautiful face again! Moony, don't you think that, for a gargoyle, Snivellus has always looked fetching!"

The ghostly figure of Remus chuckled, the sound like tinkling bells and nothing like the voice Severus remembered. He looked between the two men once more, his sneer becoming a full blown scowl.

"Well, this catch up has been fantastic but I do have things to be doing with my time. I assume you've seen the old man flitting about?"

"Oh yes," Remus said, his voice barely a whisper, "He was the one who brought us both together here, said we should wait to be brought back, whatever that is supposed to mean?"

Severus rolled his eyes and looked around him once more.

"I have a theory that would be somehow _my_ job to help you both do that. It was the codgers last request…"

Severus left his last comment to hang in the air as the other two men's faces changed to a reverence he was not expecting, even an ethereal tear seemed to be falling from Remus's eye as he absorbed that Albus Dumbledore, for now and all time, had finally crossed to the other side. Snape could not resist feeling slightly smug at being the barer of bad news, but curbed his outward displays in respect of the dead.

"We are not just going to stand here and chit chat all day, I need to get back as soon as possible and survey the damage. So, if you two are ready…"

Severus held out his hands to the gentlemen, making a mental note to scrub his hands once he was back where he belonged. Sirius made a face that conveyed the distaste and disgust he felt, but took Severus's hand regardless. Remus simply took the proffered hand without pause. He needed to get back. He had said goodbye to Tonks, and promised he would care for Teddy with all the love they both possessed. No one was sure how this was meant to work, or what would happen on the way back. Would they return to their bodies? What would happen to Sirius? Would they all simply be ghosts? Severus looked at each man and then closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and reciting a silent prayer.

'Dear boy, it's like Apparation. Think of where you wish to be and you will be there. Good luck, you may need it more than the others…'

Severus could not stop the slight chuckle that escaped him, thankful that even in death Albus Dumbledore could not leave them to drown.

"Everyone must think of where they wish to be, where they should be, and let the magic of this place take them to that place. The connection of our three magics should help greatly with this…"

Remus and Sirius simply nodded in response and followed Severus's lead, closing their eyes. Each thought of their bodies, their homes, their loved ones, and the want to really return, no other options would suffice for either man.

Severus felt the burning before any other sensation. It sped through his fingers, down his spine, through each leg, down each arm. He felt the fires of Hell and cried out, but his mouth would not move. He realised this was the first time he had felt anything since the cold of the afterlife. He had not even felt Sirius and Remus's hands, both of which had now gone. All he could feel was pain. The burning began to slowly subside, the indescribable pain of fire being replaced by the cold burn of ice. He felt like his entire body had been encased in ice and his hands could not move, his legs and feet felt bound to ground and his eyes remained nailed shut against the agony. Then there was light…

_.oOo._

Sirius stretched and yawned, rolling on his side to see the photo he kept on the mantelpiece of he and the Marauders during their time in Hogwarts, only to find it missing and replaced with a photograph of himself, closely followed with photographs of the Weasley clan, Hermione, the Order, the DA and a clipping of the Daily Prophet screaming about the end of the War and the death of the Dark Lord. On the table-side to his left was a photograph of Harry and Ginny, still in school uniforms, and to the right there was a photograph of Lily and James dancing around the gardens they one day would say their vows in. Sirius sat up and stretched once more, reconnecting every nerve and sinew in his body, and reached for the photo, fondly smiling at his two friends, remembering the day as clearly as it had been yesterday. The bedroom had changed too. The dark hangings and Slytherin touches had been removed. In their wake, bright walls, clean windows and an overly large four poster bed draped in gold and scarlet complemented the overall décor of the room. The old furniture had either been removed or painted over, and the large mirror that once dominated one was now had been cleaned and sparkled in the mid-day sun. A Weasley clock was above the mirror, signalling that it was 'Lunch-Time', and Sirius could smell the activity from downstairs. It felt like forever since he had smelt freshly cooked food and his mouth became dry, his stomach growling viciously, and his feet began to lead him in the direction of the delicious smells. He wasn't sure what he would find once he reached the bottom of the stairs, but whatever it may be, it would definitely be a surprise…

_.oOo._

In a tomb filled with beautifully arranged wildflowers, scented heavily with the warm burning of beeswax candles and damasked in the subtle yet curiously teasing moon shadows that danced along the walls, a body lay, perfectly preserved in stasis until the day of the final goodbye, the funeral. Covered in a muslin cloth, the appearance of a peaceful sleep exuded the otherwise lifeless shell. And then he breathed…

_.oOo._

Night rolled in heavy with the promise of a downpour as Sam and Sookie waited in the parlour for Eric to finally emerge. As if on cue, just as the whistle of the kettle in the kitchen pierced an otherwise awkward silence that had fallen between the previously happily married couple, now on edge at the situation, Eric sauntered down the stairs, whistling a jaunty tune and buttoning up his beautifully presented, crisp, white shirt. He had tied his hair into a precise plait that seemed to hang perfectly down his back. Sookie could not help but remember how good that back looked without the shirt. Unlike when she was a single, hormonal wreck, she simply enjoyed the memory and sighed, remembering the equally hellish relationship that had whipped her like a hurricane and left her crumpled and broken for so long, it had taken Sam five years to collect up all the little shattered shards of her heart and knit them back together, entwining his own with hers until they were of one heart.

Sam was eyeing Eric with extreme caution and an open intolerance that made the already tense situation that much more intolerable for Sookie. His anger, mistrust and outright dislike for the handsome vampire was rolling off of him in waves. Sookie took some very steady, deep breaths, trying to block out the emotions so that she cold think straight. Clear reads from Sam were rare because of his Were status, but their bonding was so strong she always struggled when he was feeling intensely or passionately about something.

'Makes for some amazing lovemaking...'

The thought popped into Sookie's mind unbidden, and before she knew it she could not control the giggle creeping up her throat and releasing itself into the already tense moment. Sam glared at her with a mixture of confusion and anguish, which made the laugh deeper and tears spring to her eyes as she fought to stop. The sound alerted Eric to the presence of others around him and he turned his eyes to the couple, a devilish grin spreading across his leonine features as he entered the parlour.

"Oh! Hi guys!" he made a hand single not dissimilar to the Queen's wave that Sookie had seen on TV, which made for her to fight with all her might to keep back another cascade of giggles. She looked from Sam to Eric, with Sam a ball of tension and suspicion and Eric aloof, almost care-free, and internally quiet as a mouse. If she was deeply honest, it was the one thing she missed about her time with vamps, it was the deep silence that her mind could wonder around, her only thoughts belonging to herself, as she lay beside them in sated bliss...'or a bloody, mangled mess', she reminded herself, shaking her head.

"Eric, what are you doing in our home, and since when do you say 'hi guys'?" Sookie looked him square in the face, resisting the urge to stand and punch him in his smirking jaw as he casually meandered into the full room and took a seat on her grandma's favourite chair. He knew the importance of that chair, which made Sookie all the more sour. This situation could explode at any moment, as the tension in Sam's jaw was the only thing keeping him from picking Eric up by the scruff of the neck and throwing him out of the house. Sookie hadn't realised how deep seated Sam's detestation of Eric had become, she had always assumed they had reached a mutual level of respected indifference. She was mistaken.

"Listen here, Vamp, you cannot just swan into our marital home and park yourself in a chair like nothing has happened. Where's an apology, or a note, or a warning, or _something_? You're lucky I haven't turfed out your sorry ass while you were asleep and left you to back in the sun, now spill!" Sam, now perched on the arm of the sofa, was boring holes into Eric's face, which never showed anything aside from mirth at the trouble he was causing. Eric checked over his nails, brushed lint from his shirt and looked up, finally, at Sam.

"Nice to see you too, Merlotte, and Sookie, how are you doing? Sorry I wasn't here for the wedding, couldn't break away from Freya's 'old world' tour. I'm not going to say I'm glad with your decision to mate with...someone...but five years for a human is a long time I supposed. For me, it's barely since a minute since I was nestled comfortably between your legs..."

Sookie didn't have time to stop it from happening, and didn't feel inclined to, as Eric took the full force of Sam's punch. A click in his jaw signified it was possibly broken, but Eric simply pushed it back into place and continued.

"Nice, is that how you treat all your guests?" His eyes flashed, then, and Sookie's brain screamed 'Danger, Danger Sam Merlotte!'. But Eric did no more than let out a laugh and began to speak, unabated by Sam's violent outburst.

"Are we all sitting comfortably? Then I'll fill you in on what's been happening. I thought the States were bad for their politics, but Europe was an utter mess! A lot has been happening over there that could have potentially affected all of us, even you, Fleabag," the cheap shot at Sam was delivered with a bored glance as Eric unfolded his large frame into a languid position, like telling a story of a sexual conquest amongst his male buddies. This irked Sookie, but she stayed silent.

"Of course, I knew about the first Wizarding War, I was in London at the time and it is hard not to be involved when a madman is on the loose killing people and trying to draft strong, capable vampires to fight in his army. I was asked back then for allegiance, but I refused on the basic principle that wizards and their secret world are just too irritating for me to bother with. They do nothing for me. And don't be comparing them to your bijou wannabes, Sookie, these are the real deal. Wands. Robes. The lot. I mean there is a proper wizarding community in the States too, but England and Europe is really their main stage. They've been around for thousands of years, and built an entire world just out of the eyes of, what they call, 'Muggles'. That means non-wizarding people. The problem with wizards is they think they are top of the food chain, and this superiority bled into their society through Voldemort, a wizard so powerful people still cannot bare to say his name."

Sookie noted that the Nord's accent had developed the slightest of Oklahoma twangs, and as recognition dawned she felt oddly disturbed by the story he told. She had heard it before, but right now she just couldn't place where.

"The first war ended when the all powerful Voldemort was bested by a mere infant, a baby smuggled away and hidden until such time as his true magical nature could no longer be ignored. He was whisked away to learn in one of the world's most prestigious wizarding school, Hogwarts, where apparently he got up to all sorts of mischief, preparing himself to once again take on Voldemort. All the while, Voldemort bided his time, amassing a terrible army of evil to take on the Ministry of Magic, their version of the Senate, and overthrow the wizarding world. Last May, it all came to a head, the boy took on the powers of Voldemort again and crushed him once and for all."

"The boy, is he..." Sookie was sucked into the tale, entranced and a little frightened of a whole new world opening up to her. She had been through enough, it didn't surprise her there would be more.

"He survived, and is now revered amongst wizard kind as some sort of Saviour. He seems the good sort, I mean he had a meeting of all magical creatures, not just wizards, and designed an accord between us and them giving us equal rights in their world, one we have never had before. That means your kind too, Mutt. If you knew how wizards treated Weres in Europe, you would probably start barking with rage..." Eric ignored Sam's low growl and continued, flicking a speck on his shirt absent-mindedly, like he told this story every day.

"It was an utter shambles to say the least. Whilst amassing his army of brainless minions, Voldemort came to Freya, asking for fealty and bodies against the powers of good. She refused, it wasn't worth our time considering we were meant to be heading back to the States to organise the Oklahoma infrastructure. Her refusal cost her her life, and I had to flee. I stayed with the Romanian vampires for a time, but their ways are...traditional...to say the least. None of them wished to join in the dark wizard's uprising, but some did join the side of the Light, as they like to call themselves, as the boy spoke of great change and understanding. One of the boy's friends is an advocate for the equal rights of all creatures of magic, a little firecracker that one, definitely a woman who could run the world if she put her mind to it. I met her briefly when I finally came out of hiding and travelled to London with the Romanian vampires to discuss our part in the accord, it helps to be a vampire elder sometimes, I suppose. I know what you're thinking, I was never the sort to shy away from a fight, but can you blame me? With what happened with some half-cocked has beens in Bon Temps, I wasn't prepared to go through that for a second time. Especially not for the likes of wizards."

Eric left a pregnant pause, allowing Sookie to fully take in the situation. The cogs in her mind were turning, and the conversation she had had with Sam on the porch swing that morning awoke in her a realisation so strong she couldn't help but laugh again, this time a short burst of giggles that made both Eric and Sam look at her confused.

"I'm sorry! You mean to tell me the books are true!"

Sookie held her sides at the faces both men were pulling at her, neither having a clue what she was on about.

"Next you'll be telling me Albus Dumbledore really did look like Michael Gambon! Or maybe he always did look like Richard Harris!" Sookie wiped the tears from her eyes as she continued to howl with laughter. Eric picked up on one of the names and laughed himself.

"I don't see what A Man Called Horse has anything to do with this, but no Albus Dumbledore, if I were to describe him in terms of actors you may know, he looked more like Sir Richard Attenborough, from Jurassic Park, though perhaps a little taller...How did you...?"

Sookie looked at Eric then, feeling a slight sadness that Severus Snape may not have looked like Alan Rickman if he did in fact exist, she had always had a soft spot for him in the movies and, even when reading to Hunter the collection she had bought him a couple of Christmases back, she had the image of the sexy, dark and brooding Rickman with his beautiful English drawl in her mind. She couldn't help herself.

"Was Severus Snape real and did he really look and sound like Alan Rickman? I need to know..."

Eric pondered this, his knowledge of the actor limited to his time with Sookie when she had forced him to watch that dreadful Robin Hood film where everyone except the Sheriff (his favourite character by far) had been American running around England. He also recalled Die Hard, a much better choice of film. Eric had always had time for cinema, and Sookie's love of lazy Sunday evenings with films were something he missed greatly, though he would never admit such a thing.

"Actually yes, he did bare a strange resemblance to him, though he looked a little younger than Rickman, and was a tad more sallow and slender. Yes I would say they bared a striking resemblance, although I don't know how he looked in this movie you mentioned?"

"Movies, but don't worry. I'm really confused, this was all supposed to have happened in like the 80s and 90s. It's 2017 now, how can all that have happened last May? The movies have finished, so have the books, and the writer has even had a show out on Broadway..."

Eric was far too confused, and he hated being confused. He pooled his features, hiding this, and spoke once more, his ever present confidence never faltering.

"I assume the writer is some form of magical being, one that can predict the future, or at least part of it, and then wove a story around their predictions. Considering the wizarding community has no knowledge of these occurrences there must be something, some spell she has cast. But I assure you, this all came to a head last May. I doubt her work is accurate, you should never trust a storyteller to give you all the facts." Eric chose, once again, to give a dramatic, pregnant pause, straightening his cufflinks and checking everyone in the room was following his story.

"The boy, his name was Harry Potter, wasn't it?" Sookie said, her eyes wide. Sam was completely lost in the conversation, but the name clicked into place.

"Oh my God, Hunter loves those books and movies! How did I not realise that before?" Sam smiled with the connection, he had built such a good relationship with Hunter since becoming a part of Sookie's family, and she cherished the time all three of them had together, although truthfully she also dreaded it. Sam clearly wanted a family, but after everything that had happened to her, all the wars and fighting, she just wasn't working things out _down there_. Tara, her best friend, kept telling her it took time, and she and Sam never played safe in the bedroom. She wasn't taking anything, she just wasn't working. The thought played across her face with a sadness and guilt that Sam could recognise, even across a crowded room. They had talked about this before, him offering her constant reassurance and she still holding on to this idea of her being 'less of a woman' because she could not bear his children, which Sam would always say was just plain ridiculous and that she was all woman, and the only one he every needed or would need again. Without a word, he walked over and scooped her up into his arms, sitting in her spot and nestling her on his lap, ignoring the haughty look of the vampire currently sitting opposite them. Sookie laid back against Sam's chest, he always knew what to do. Sometimes, she questioned which one of them was the telepath.

It was at that point the silence was broken by a knock on the door. Sookie sighed heavily at the thought of having to leave her very comfortable spot on her husband, and Eric took his cue to answer it, knowing it would most likely be Pam standing on the other side. Lo and behold, not only was Pam awaiting approved entry, but Bill Compton and Karin, who appeared to all be less than happy. Eric shrugged and looked to Sookie, who simply nodded against Sam's chest. Eric returned to his chosen seat as the three vampires entered, Pam clearly holding herself together for all it was worth.

"Sookie. Sam. Always good to see you both. Wedded life suits you Sook, you've filed out nicely since the last time I saw you!"

Pam, uncharacteristically, walked over to Sookie and Sam and placed a cold kiss on each of their cheeks before finding an available slot in now crowded parlour to perch. Bill stood, looking on Sookie's seat with a slight element of disgruntledness, but not saying a word. He nodded to the both of them and smiled kindly before standing behind a seated Pam. Karin said nothing, something Sookie had grown used to in five years of her guarding her house, but did smile at the couple, which was always a pleasant rarity from the stoic tank of a vampire. Pam was pointedly ignoring Eric's existance, clearly waiting for him to make the first move. Sookie looked on the vampires in her lviing room and sighed.

"Here we go again" she finally said, breaking the silence in the room. They looked at her, and she suddenly felt the usual chill of being placed centre stage. Wordlessly, Eric gracefully stood from his seat and confidently strode to Pam, lifting her from her chair and embracing her. 'Times _have_ changed' Sookie thought, as Pam looked like a child being kissed by a particularly decrepit yet dearly loved grandparent. Eric then embraced Karin and kissed her cheek, offering a hand to Bill, before sitting back in his seat and surveying the group with a cocky grin.

"So none of you are going to ask me how I am after so long? Always good to return home for ones children to be so happy to see you!" Eric smirked, but his voice faltered, betraying a deeper sadness of being away from his progenies for so long. A bond between maker and child was stronger than your average bond, it almost resembled that of a parent, and Eric had been taxed severely because of the decision to leave. He hadn't really acknowledged how much he had loved his children, callous and depraved as they were, and he had to admit, though only to himself, he missed them greatly. Pam smiled, a radiant look for her, and Sookie took in her outfit. Pam always chose pastel colours and mainly wore slacks, opting to look like a Stepford wife. Today she was dressed in a capris pants suit in a pastel baby blue which matched her eyes, a look that suggested what it would be like if Alice had crawled out of the rabbit hole and became a PTA mother from Marin county. Sookie loved how Pam seemed oblivious to how she truly looked, and wore what she liked. It wasn't a look that screamed deadly killer, more a look that suggested cocktails on a yacht. Karin was dressed in black camo, what a surprised, and Bill was replete in a well cut suit, though he had opted for tie-less and was slightly unbuttoned at the neck. It looked as if two parents had returned from their emo daughter's disastrous parents' evening, and Sookie felt that crafty giggle starting to bubble in her stomach once more, though she kept it to herself this time, turning into Sam's neck and sneaking a grin that he mirrored. He was probably thinking exactly the same thing.

"Master, I was under the impression that you would return to the States and come straight home. We were awaiting your return at your house, but Mr Merlotte informed the staff this morning you were...elsewhere..."

Sam raised an eyebrow at Pam's formality, but he kept quiet. He wasn't sure he was ready to rejoin the conversation after his last interjection.

"Well, I thought it best, until the dust had settled, to make sure I keep my movements sporadic, and Sookie's home has been welcome to me for some time. I was surpirsed she had not resinded my invertation after...well sufficed to say I thought it would be prudent to perhaps _not_ return to my home so soon after arrival. The world is still raw after the war. I am sure you all understand."

Eric seemed to almost, without letting to much away, be asking for their understanding and forgiveness. The looks they all shared were of concern and love, although with Bill it was perhaps less love and more distaste. Eric ignored this and continued.

"Although the greater evil is gone, the wizards are still flushing out the worms in the wood, so to speak. I came here as I think all of us can be of service, if Mr and Mrs Merlotte agree to what I have to offer. I barely escaped Freya's company but, as her consul, I have now acquired the state of Oklahoma, and all that the title of King entails. However, I think it would be wise, considering the debt accrued by my safe stay in Europe during the second war, that we consider assisting the wizards in rebuilding their world. It would be a bold gesture, and it is one my progenies will assist me in fulfilling. Pam, Karin, I ask you both, will you agree to coming to Europe with me, to assist this Potter and his band of _heroes_ in rebuilding the magical world?"

Sookie was now beyond the pale confused. Is that all Eric had wanted? Sookie knew him much better than that.

"What is it you _really_ want, Eric? I'm not buying this hogwash of you just wanting to be a helpful hand to a people, only moments ago, you stated were pretty much beneath you."

Eric shifted uncomfortably for a moment in his seat, and Pam stared at him through narrowed eyes. Finally, through the silence, she spoke, her voice like ice.

"Eric, what happened out there, what did you do?"

Everyone in the room was surprised at Pam's forwardness, she only ever stood up to Eric if there really was something deeper going on she honestly did not agree with, and even then she was never as accusatory as she was now. Her hands were folded in her lap as she sat bolt upright, her eyes never blinking as they bore holes into Eric. She knew him too well, too.

"Who are you to ask me such things?"

Eric's voice was stern and commanding, making both Pam and Karin flinch, but Sookie picked up the gauntlet Pam had thrown, she wasn't having Eric suddenly become King of the Mountain in her own damn house!

"Answer her Eric, you forget we all know you here, what have you done to piss the wizard's off"

Sookie was starting to feel mad, really mad, and Sam rubbed her back in slow yet purposeful strokes to try to calm her.

"Oh dear, well that wasn't a very nice way to speak to an old _friend_ , now was it, Sookie?" Eric was neither joking nor jovial any longer, but had taken on a hard and cold exterior, now sitting properly in his seat and exuding the dominance that Sookie knew all to well he pushed onto others.

"Stop alpha-ing in my house and answer the damn ladies!" Sam spat, his arm training around Sookie's waist as the circles became a steady rhythm. He wasn't just rubbing her back to calm her, he was calming himself too.

Eric looked around himself, he wasn't going to bully or intimidate his way out of this and, to be honest, he wasn't sure he honestly had the energy to do so. He hadn't eaten in some time, and he had flown last night to arrive here in Bon Temps. The imperative nature of his business required him to take immediate action, and usual blood-bank airports and flying was not his idea of efficient, given the circumstances. He braced himself and began speaking, not looking at anyone in particular as he recounted his own part in the war.

"As I was telling Sookie and Sam, I met an extraordinary witch whilst in England. She believes that all magical creatures, as they call everyone with ability who is not a wizard, should be equal and free. She is one of the very few of her kind who believes this. I may...or may not...have...well..."

"Eric...what have you done..."

Pam looked at him wide eyed, even the whites of her eyes were shining as she began to realise that the odd feeling she had developed over the last few months, that warm sensation in the pit of her stomach that she and Karin had spoken about yet chosen to ignore, was going to be explained. She wasn't sure she really wanted to hear it.

Eric sat up to his full height and broadened his shoulders, making the armchair seem small in comparison.

"I have imprinted on her...she is mine."

The room fell into a deadly silence. No one dared move or look at one another. Pam, her mouth drawn into a hard line, looked like a Stepford stature rather than a Stepford wife.

"Aww hell!" Sookie slumped against Sam, her mind racing in a flurry of anger, disgust, annoyance and, though she dare admit it aloud, slight amusement at Eric's declaration. She knew what he meant, of course, as she and Sam shared the same connection since their marriage, but this was a whole new kettle of fish. 'And here was me thinking it was only Were's...'


	3. Little Lights

Author's Note:  
Please guys feel free to leave comments about how you are finding things, let me know what you are thinking. If you have a bit of a challenge, or an idea you'd perhaps like to see, I'd happily work it in to the story somehow :) Just drop a comment in the box below and I'll see you right!

Also, I'm gonna write it one more time but a disclaimer is due. I don't own the songs, I don't own the characters and I don't own the places, so please just enjoy, like, follow, comment etc. safe in the knowledge I'm just having fun and I don't want y'all coming after me with lawyers because I'm broke as a joke!

 **Chapter 3 – Little Lights**

 _We're born with millions_  
 _Of little lights shining in the dark_  
 _And they show us the way_  
 _One lights up, every time you feel love in your heart_  
 _One dies when it moves away_

 _All the Little Lights – Passenger_

It was odd to think that waking up with the sun beating through an open curtain would feel so refreshing but, to Sirius, it was the most amazing sensation he had experienced in his life. The warm rays played across his bare skin, tickling and rousing him into consciousness. Sweet, glorious, living, breathing consciousness. Sirius took a long, heavy breath and smelled from somewhere close by an intoxicating cacophony of aromas that made his mouth water longingly at the sheer thought of what they were. He could, with his heightened sense of smell derived from years of impersonating a shaggy haired black dog, pick out the distinct tang of tomatoes being fried, bacon being grilled, sausages in a pan he could almost hear spitting, toast popping and baked beans bubbling happily in a saucepan on the stove. He hadn't realised how much he had missed a cooked breakfast. In limbo, food had not come across his mind at all, only the aching yearning for company in his loneliness and the despair of his state of being. That was of course until Dumbledore appeared, eyes a-twinkling, followed shortly by Remus, a man he was sure he would never see again, and of course Sniv...he corrected himself to Snape, the man had brought him back after all. To where, he was uncertain.

The absolute pleasure of breathing, feeling, seeing more than white and pain was enough to distract him from the task at hand. He stretched his aching limbs and surveyed his surroundings, starting with what he was wearing. The outfit appeared to be a pure white duplicate of the outfit he had worn when falling into the veil, the only colour being the distinct gold watch chain hanging from his waistcoat and the faintest gold stitched stripes of his jacket. He looked himself over and wasn't overly keen in a pure white ensemble, it was nowhere near as colourful as he enjoyed in previous life. He huffed and pulled himself to his feet. He had been lying on a large, well made and airy four poster bed placed in the middle of a room that looked vaguely familiar. A large window to his left looked out onto an even more familiar grassy park surrounded by large town houses. Cars drove past unobtrusively, barely making a sound, and occasionally a Hackney cab drove by. Again he felt that creeping sense of knowledge and he gave the room a critical sweep of the eye. He couldn't be... The room looked so similar to his old bedroom but the colours were completely changed, the bed was no longer heavily draped in Gryffindor colours to counteract the very Slytherin décor surrounding it. His photos and the paintings were changed. Even the wallpaper was a light pastel wash. He walked over to the window and looked up and down the street, spotting a London road sign on the railings of the opposite park. _Grimmauld Place_ , it read, and all of a sudden Sirius's heart leapt into his throat. He was home. But it wasn't his home any more. Pacing away from the window and towards the mantelpiece he pictured a little family, children flying kites, picnics in the sun, a family to match the décor of this his ex-bedroom.

As he approached, his heart shifted from his throat to somewhere in the vicinity of his feet. The photos displayed were of a couple, one, a young woman, with bright red hair and playful eyes and the other a raven-haired boy...young man actually...with a funny looking beard not dissimilar to his own, with eyes of bright, shimmering green. They were dancing around a fountain and smiling, laughing, the man wrapping his arms around the woman in a loving embrace as the picture replayed the moment over and again. Sirius stared, a tear running down his face as he recognised the pair fully. The hair of the young man was a ragged mess on top of his head as the girls hair flowed free beneath a Holyhead Harpies green and gold beret. So similar and yet so different, Ginny looked with complete adoration into the eyes of Harry, and Sirius felt an overwhelming mixture of senses. Love, regret, anger, remorse, pain and pride welled up in his chest as he watched the two danced, as James and Lily, had in the beautiful garden. Next to this photo was one of a baby, swathed in a blanket, a crop of jet black hair upon it's head and large blue eyes gurgling at the camera. Sirius's eyes opened wider than he knew they could as the features of the baby blended the two into one perfect child. He had to touch it to check it was real. He picked the frame up and held it in his hands, his eyes darting between photos again and again, matching the eyes, the hair, the little nose and wide, toothless grin. He turned the photo over and his tears flowed freely as he saw, scribbled on the back in oh so familiar handwriting _James Sirius Potter – Born 27_ _th_ _March 2004_.

Sirius was having trouble processing what he was seeing. How much had he missed? How long had he been away? Last time he had checked, it was 1996. Was it now 2004? Had he missed he turn of the century whilst in Limbo? His mind span and he headed back to the edge of the bed with both photos in hand, feeling his knees give way against him. He held his breath, closed his eyes, and listened to the rhythms of the house. He could hear the soft muffle of talking, of laughter, and the underlying sounds of breakfast being made. He could hear the sound of a child now, easily identified by an endless, high pitched stream of sound occasionally interjected with by a softer, lower, muffle. Curiosity sparked within him and he stood, placing the pictures back on the mantle and walking to the door which he had completely disregarded as being half open. He felt himself moving through it into the same hallway of his youth, but the colours were brighter and the piaintings had been dusted and cleaned. His mind turned to old Kreacher and his pottering around the place, cleaning and keeping everything just to the Black family's liking. He wondered if Kreacher was still here or whether he had passed on after all this time. Did he even survive the war? Others clearly had. Sirius stopped at the top of the stairwell and realisation dawned and birthed a wonderous feeling of hope. Harry and Ginny had survived. The war could be over! Life could be restored to the old house in ways he never thought possible because the war was over and the Light were victorious! No other explanation could be found. Sirius descended the stairs two at a time, he had meditated enough!

As he reached the almost closed door of the living room he stilled, listening again to the voices on the other side. There were more than just an adult and an infant. There was a choir of voices tussling for conversation. He tried to pick up the scents of the others, and he could just about note the smell of Weasley's, Luna Lovegood (that airy, light mixture of lavender and wet grass), Neville Longbottom (an earthy smell, like a gardener after a long day in the allotment) and another smell. He couldn't believe it when he first caught it but there it was. Tangy, salty, like the sea during a storm. Like his father but with hints of his mother's nightshade and irises. He could almost see the sneer. What was Draco Malfoy doing here?

Curiosity killed the cat...'Good thing I'm a dog then!' thought Sirius as he flexed his muscles on impulse and shifted, glad to know his magic was fully in tact. He shook himself and stretched in his animagus form, turning in circles to check he still had a tail. All seemed correct. He couldn't help but chuff (the closest thing to a laugh for a dog) at the thought of what would happen next. Maybe he would be daring and bound straight to Harry, or perhaps just wander in and pee on Malfoy's leg...the possibilities were endless. He nosed the door open and waited for anyone to notice, but no one did. He watched in awe from his concealed spot as the family around him worked towards a breakfast. Awe turned to shock as he acknowledged where people were in the room. Harry and Ginny were sitting at the top and bottom ends of the oversized dining table, a small child wandering between them in search of their approval for something. Luna and Neville were side by side, practically in each other's lap, talking animatedly about sprouting mandrakes and the problems with nuzzfiggles in a mandrake patch. Molly was busying herself with table arranging while a put upon Arthur sat quietly drinking tea, occasionally joining in but otherwise staying silent, his eyes baggy and tired looking. George was talking excitedly about Quidditch with someone, and it took a long moment for Sirius to register what he was seeing. Sitting boldly in the lap of Ron Weasley, one arm draped lazily around his shoulders as the other gesticulated alongside talk of how Paramore was a useless keeper, was Draco. Ron looked blissfully amused at the interchange, whilst Draco was getting more frustrated, playing straight into the hands of a waiting and eager George. As Sirius's jaw dropped open, he failed to note the footsteps behind him coming up the hallway.

"What the fuck?" Hermione screeched, drawing her wand and pointing it directly at Sirius's head. The room abruptly became silent, a reprimand poised on Molly and Ginny's lips before they both looked in the direction of Hermione's wand.

"Mum, what does fuck mean?"

The little boy was oblivious as to why the adults all seemed to suddenly go quiet, and he crawled onto his mother's lap in inquisitive wonder.

"James, don't say that word. It's a very bad word. It's not for little boys to say," the words left Arthur's mouth with ease, as if he had failed to notice what was going on. He even sounded tired, he must be working over time. He still had on Ministry robes, but the gold trim told Sirius he had been promoted. Sirius wanted to congratulate him, but it simply came out as a bark and a wagging tail.

The boy's eyes glinted mischievously as he turned to his grandfather, cheek disguised as innocence riddled across his face.

"But Pop-pop, Aunty Moany said fuck first!"

James, scrunched his nose and looked over accusatorially at Hermione who shifted awkwardly at her realisation, her eyes still trained on the dog and her wand still pointed firmly in Sirius's direction.

"James, enough!"

It was Harry who spoke this time, his voice firm as he forced himself to look at his son, trying so hard to fight the urge to laugh at his son's cheekiness. Arthur let out a sigh and looked down at Sirius, not at all surprised at what he saw. To everyone's surprise, he held out his hand to the dog and waited, nodding slightly. Sirius took the cue and approached, sniffing the proffered hand and wagging his tail, his tongue lolling out. Arthur scratched behind Sirius's ear and under his chin, uttering in a weary voice.

"Well, you took your time, didn't you, old friend. I was expecting you to appear much sooner than this. Would you not prefer to greet everyone properly rather than all fours?"

"Arthur, what are you on about?"

Molly looked confused and flustered, although to Sirius's memory she always looked flustered. Arthur turned to his wife with a face full of love and patience, with a dash of guilt.

"Well...Moll, you know I was saying to you this morning when I got in we had an unexpected visitor at the Ministry?"

He waited, adding an unnecessary pause, to check his wife was following. She nodded, dumbstruck.

"You see, I cannot officially tell anyone who the guest was, as I told you, but I'm not _bound_ to secrecy. Being Minister of Magic I never have to do such things again..."

He glanced at Sirius and winked, a large smile forming exhausted but exhilarated lines across his face. Sirius marked that Arthur was definitely looking a lot older than the last time they had met. He had silver almost drowning the flecks of red left in his mane of hair, which now reached his shoulders. His face was almost the same, aside from the added wrinkles, and his eyes had taken on a twinkle that Sirius couldn't help but compare to Dumbledore's old eyes. Sirius licked Arthur's hand and continued to wag his tail.

"Doggy! I want the doggy Mum, Mum can we keep him, PLLLLEEEAAASSSSEEE Mum!"

James was bouncing impatiently in his mother's lap. Ginny had barely moved since Sirius had been outed, and Harry had returned to his blank stare. Sirius felt saddened when he looked over at his godson, eyes filled with unshed tears and fists clenched into a tight ball. This was not going how Sirius had planned. Harry looked furious, so much so some of his hairs were actually standing on end. He looked older than his age could possibly be, but he still had something about him that wreaked of youth and vitality. Ginny looked as she always had, though perhaps her face was a tad longer, her hair a tad more controlled. Hermione was a mane of dreadlocks. They suited her. Multicolour ribbons were interwoven into the intricate braids the expanded from her head, making her face look small in comparison. Ron was looking wonderful, sleek and trim with a full lumberjack beard of red and gold and a large scar poking out just to the edge of his right eye that seemed to run underneath the beard. Draco was languishing in his lap now, enjoying a new drama. He had changed too, although he sported the long, straight, platinum blond hair of his father, worn in a Celtic braid down his back. He didn't seem to have anything Malfoy about him, other than the family resemblances. And he was _sitting in Ron's lap!_ Sirius could not get his head around that sight, and knew many questions were going out to the group, not just coming his way. He started to feel nervous, but continued to wag his tail and look to each of them.

Arthur, clearing his throat and standing, pulled his wand from his robe sleeve and summoned his Patronus. The little weasel sprang from the end of his wand and circle around Arthur's neck, settling on his shoulder.

"Take a message to Glenda and Artemis, tell them that they should probably send _Him_ over to Grimmauld Place, it's probably the best place to start. Oh! And then head to Andre and Vlad and tell them to send an owl to Minerva for me, I'm a bit tied up at the moment. Tell her to urgently head to Remus Lupin's tomb and check inside. Be prepared for a shock."

The little, ghostly weasel peeped cheerfully and then zoomed out of the open dining room window.

"Harry, would you be so kind as to grab your godfather a robe, and perhaps Molly you could ask Kreacher to serve up an extra plate for Sirius. I'm assuming your hungry, old chap?"

Sirius barked twice and Arthur, continually smiling, patted him on the head before reaching to lift his grandson from his daughter's lap.

"Now James, do you remember the story of where your middle name comes from?"

James nodded, looking at the dog with caution as now he was a lot closer. It had not been so big when he was on his mother's lap, but it was right in front of him now. Sirius saw the child's apprehension and tilted his head to the side, letting out a whimper and then snuffling at the child's stomach, tickling him. James giggled and patted his head, like his grandfather had, all fear lost with his new friend.

"Well, this right here is one of the men you are named after and one of the important elders of the Order of the Phoenix. Can you remember what I told you about them in your bedtime story?"

"Yes! It's my favourite Pop-pop!"

"Would you like to tell it to Sirius whilst your father gets him some clothes?" Dropping his voice Arthur dramatically whispered, "You don't want him to transform and be all naked would you, eww!" James wrinkled his nose and shook his head.

"I wouldn't be averse, I always wondered about the tattoos..." Draco chimed in from his chez Ron. Ron nudged him in the ribs and Draco dramatically let out a pained "Ouch" before settling back to his smug smile.

Finally, after looking for a long while at nothing in particular, Luna looked over to the action in the room. She had vaguely noticed everything stopping, but then had spotted an odd creature on the wall which looked like a cross between a nargle and a hornswat, and had completely lost track of her surroundings. It was part of the wallpaper design, and Ginny had said it was simply a pattern, but Luna knew differently. Focussing in on what everyone was staring at, and what Hermione was pointing her wand at, she beamed so widely that it almost lit the entire room. For Neville it did anyway. He turned to her and looked in bewilderment as she clapped with glee.

"Oh Sirius! I'm so happy you made it back!"

"That. Is not. Sirius. Sirius is dead. I saw him die," Harry said through gritted teeth. He really was seething.

"Well of course it is! Look at his eyes, Harry, it's clearly him! And who can mistake that animagus?"

Luna stood and walked around, crouching and giving the dog a loving fuss as he barked and enjoyed the attention.

James, feeling like he had been rudely interrupted, cleared his throat and sat a little taller in his spot, crossing his arms and looking pointedly around the room.

"Ah-hem! I was going to say...the Order of the Phoenix was the Light sides army, and they fought for justice, peace, hope and love. They helped Daddy save the world, and Mummy, and Aunty Moany, and Uncle Ron. Bad men wanted to make the world dark, but the Order all came together and saved everyone. Sadly, some of the Order became so tired they had to sleep forever, just like Daddy's mummy and daddy and Uncle Fred. One of those people was Daddy's godfather, Sirius Black..."

James closed his eyes, trying to remember the story his family told him, upon urgent and persuasive request, every night without fail.

"...Sirius was running because he was blamed for hurting Daddy's mummy and daddy, but he never did! He would never hurt anyone he loved...Pop-pop, he was my favourite, you know why?"

Arthur looked at his grandson and then at Sirius, giving him a sly wink.

"No, you have never said so before, why is he your favourite, James?"

"Beccaaaauuuuusssseeee he could turn into a doggy, like this one! And and and he loved Daddy with all his heart. And and and he left Daddy this house and Kreachie and he was sometimes cheeky when he was at school, like grandad James, and he was grandad James and nanny Lily's bestest friend, and you know Teddy? Teddy is my best friend and his daddy...he was one of the Order and had to have a long sleep too...Teddy says that his daddy and Sirius was best friends too! Like Daddy, Aunty Moany and Uncle Ron!"

Arthur smiled down at James who was over-excitedly bobbing in his lap, hands flailing, as he explained his reasoning, like when one has to explain (at any age) who their favourite superhero could be and why they are the best to a group of non-believers.

Draco snorted a laugh as he listened to James, who was oblivious that the dog and the man were the same person. He had grown to love this family, but sometimes he wondered how, with all that had happened, they still were surprised by strange things going on. He looked at his husband and smiled, feeling his brain whizzing at one hundred miles a minute. How he had managed to get to this point, Draco honestly couldn't say. IT had been completely shocking when, all those years ago, he had found himself competing in a firewhiskey drinking, sorrow drowning, life hating contest in the dingiest part of the Leaky Cauldron with none other than Ronald Bilius Weasley (now Weasley-Malfoy after losing the chess game the night before the wedding...he should have taken that pesky knight when he had the chance, Draco chuckled to himself). Ron had just split up from Hermione after she had discovered him in a tryst with two of the Holyhead Harpies. The relationship had never been the same once the war was over, both knew it, but neither could accept that some things just don't work. But, that night, something _had_ worked. To Draco's knowledge, it had worked _extremely well_ considering how utterly saturated in booze they both had been, and it had worked that way ever since. Coming out to his mother had been a lot easier than expected, her words being 'at least he is a pureblood'. The wedding had assisted in Narcissa clawing back up the social ladder with her new found, and completely unexpected, best friend and ally, Molly. Mothers of the Grooms had clearly gone to the pair's heads when they first started planning out the wedding arrangements, and they were soon spending time together more and more, until it came to a point where his once slender and poised mother had developed a healthy, rosy glow about the cheeks and a couple of extra pounds around the waistline. Draco remembered his father's disgust when he was released from Azkaban to find not only was his wife filing for a divorce, but she had gained weight and had no interest in letting him test-drive her newly developed, heavier bust and bottom as a welcome home present. Draco was so pleased at how happy his mother now was with her toyboy, although he could still not look Kingsley Shacklebolt in the eye after walking in on them one night during a particularly explicit game of poker...At least his mother was winning...Draco shuddered at the memory and returned his focus to the room wherein Potter had _still_ not got his godfather some clothes and the dog was happily enjoying his own godson, James, as he told the bed time story. Draco let out a loud, dramatic sigh and stood lazily.

"Well, Harry, if you aren't going to go get them. And I suppose you aren't going to transform just for fun?" Sirius huffed and shook himself, much to James's amusement.

"Kreacher!" Draco called, a little louder than perhaps necessary.

There was a loud crack and the house elf stood, bent double with age but dressed in a butler's suit (Hermione's compromise was to _make_ him clothing, but he would accept nothing less that the suit he had seen on Harry's tel-e-vizzon that the tall butler, Jeeves, had been wearing).

"Yes, Mrs Weasley..."

Draco scowled, "You know, I'm still not above giving a house elf a good kick..." A sharper jab was administered, this time to his back, and he turned to look at Ron, who was no longer amused but rather stern.

"Ugh! Fine! Kreacher, can you go find Master Black some of his old clothes. I think Harry packed them away somewhere in the cellar?"

"Kreacher has taken the liberty, Mrs Weasley, of already getting clothes for the Master"

With a wave of his hand, a pile of clothes appeared, freshly washed and pressed, beside Sirius on the floor.

"How did he...?" Ron managed to cough out, but it was clearly a struggle so Draco interjected.

"House elves are so connected to their families and houses they know when their true master is near. Seriously, you dated Moany, how did you _not_ learn some of this stuff?"

Hermione, temporarily snapping out of her fixation on the dog, glared at Draco.

"I do wish you wouldn't call me that! It's your fault James calls me Aunty Moany!"

"But it is just so much fun to see how much is pi-annoys you, Moany," Draco laughed and settled back into Ron's lap, who started to shake from the effort of holding in his own giggle upon seeing Hermione's seething face. Ron failed, as Draco knew he would, and the tension in the room was soon broken by the heart-felt laughter of all, joined by the joyful yip of a dog. George patted Draco on the back and guffawed, wiping a tear from his eye, and the room was washed in a calm relief. No one had seen George laugh that hard in such a long time, and it made Draco proud that he had contributed to another wall being broken so the real George, the one that carried his brother's torch in his heart, could peek through. Looking at the shining in Ron's eyes made him all the more pleased, and he bent his head to exchange a soft and chaste kiss before the laughter settled and confusion returned, though not as violently as before.

Sirius took his clothes in his mouth and padded into the hallway, quickly transforming and changing into the lovely ensemble chosen by Kreacher. 'He never was a bad elf really, just a very grumpy one,' he thought as he buttoned up his newly pressed forest green waistcoat, checked the hallways for his pocket watch which he had conveniently left on the stairs, and pulled on his deep purple striped jacket. The elf knew what he liked, after all this time. He strode to the dining room door once again and, taking a deep breath, entered to face the family.

_.oOo._

In a busted up, broke ass, boojee chic trailer pitched outside Bon Temps busiest family bar, wedged between some overgrowing trees and too close to the bins for comfort, deep male moans could be heard, interspersed with a rickety creaking of the swaying van. The trailer was swaying ever so slightly as one voice bled into two male voices, getting louder and louder with the motions of the caravan. As quickly as the sounds had started, a sound from inside the trailer drew the entire process to an abrupt halt. A phone was ringing...

 _Ring, ring, Hooker! Ring, ring!_


	4. Playground

**Chapter 4 – Playground**

 _I don't know much about hiding_  
 _I don't know much about playing tings safe_  
 _I don't know much about you_  
 _But I know there's a playground inside you_

 _Lethal Bizzle - Playground_

\- BEEP! -

"Lafayette Reynolds, you answer this phone, right now! Call me back as soon as you get this!"

Sookie huffed loudly as she hung up on Lafayette's voicemail, for the third time in the last half hour. Sam had not said a work since Eric made his declaration, and Sookie knew it was best to just leave him in his head right now. Sookie needed Lafayette, and he ass wasn't picking up! She closed her eyes and breathed in deep. It was the middle of the day. The vamps had retired to Fangtasia and Sam had crashed as soon as he hit the pillow. Sookie couldn't switch off her mind, too much was going on. The worst image of the evening was burned in her memory. Bill's face as he had left to bed down for the day at his home across the way. He had looked at Sookie and Sam together, and his usual stony facade broke, for the briefest of moments, into all consuming, broken, pained and bleeding raw sadness and regret. Sookie saw, and he shielded his gaze behind his porcelain mask once more. But she had seen, and he knew she always would see straight through into his soul, if he still had a soul. Even if she was not _in love_ with Bill, she would always hold a place in her heart where she still deeply loved the vampire.

"Sam, are you there?" Sookie waved a hand across his face and yelped as he went to bite at her fingers. Full moon fast approached and he was extra tense. New drama would never help with this sort of thing. He snapped out of it remorsefully, muttering his apologies profusely and looking utterly ashamed and disgusted at his own actions. Sookie reached across for his hand and he pulled it away, so she stood and grabbed him into an embrace as he buried his face into her bosom and took a long, steadying breath.

"My mate. Mine."

The finality and surety in his voice told her everything going on in his mind, she didn't need to be a telepath to have an idea what was going on.

Sookie let go and went over to the percolator, pouring them both a coffee, placed them in from of each other and took a long sip, letting the bittersweet taste warm her bones.

"Why do we have to help?"

Sam looked in her eyes with despair and confusion written across his face, his hair hanging shaggy over his face. Sookie sighed heavily.

"Baby, I don't know why things happen round here. We've had five years of quiet and I loved every second with you. But we can't pretend our bubble is all that's out there," her voice dropped as she reached her hand, palm up, across the table. Sam took it, running his rugged thumb across her knuckles. She sighed again, this time with relief.

"Sometimes I wish it was our world, but it's not."

She swallowed the lump in her throat made up of both his and her pain and fear and smiled, it never truly reaching her eyes.

"We'll get through this, you'll see. Also, I've always wanted to see the land of my ancestors. We talked about London...". Sam quizzically looked at her.

"I've changed my mind, I meant Canada."

He smiled weakly and she felt the cool sweep of calm as he warmed before her.

I was at that pivotal moment when both were on the same page and moving forward, the gravel of the drive was viciously disturbed at speed, and the yard was suddenly full of hardcore gangster rap blaring from a high end stereo system. The engine cut with the hi-fi and Hurricane Lafayette had arrived. The worst part was, by the way his hips swished with that touch of extra sass and his just opening up the door and coming in without invitation, making a beeline for Sookie who was sitting directly in his eyeline, he was hella pissed.

-o-

It had been another rough night for Lafayette Not that he chose to complain about it. Honestly, he really didn't give a rat's ass. He filled his bed and emptied his load, no thoughts or feelings involved. And so what if he was a homewrecker? He didn't chase the men who fell between his sheets. They hunted him down sought him out, so how was it up to him and his fault? Lafayette knew what the guy in his bed was, what he always was, what he always would be. Just another joke of a jock so far in the closet he was in Narnia being rimmed by a centaur. Lafayette had a 'no fuck's given' policy, and he enjoyed the freedom of just living. He needed to breathe, he needed to find some way to _feel_ again, feel anything but the numbness. He had come to contemplate on the idea that somewhere there was a universe where he died right at the start of the story, and this life role he was cast for was a TV show remake barely following the original story any more. He was, in essence, clawing his way back into the story. Truth be told, he missed the drama of it. He missed the thrill of being the 'good guy' and the feeling of redemption for ever being the bad guy. The soul's acceptance of this was infinite, and it was the best high he had ever felt. _He_ was the good guy, and his magic made him special. He had reached this point with his magic where he could summon objects, train his mind and read thoughts, or close his mind completely. He didn't even need to use words to get to where he wanted, where he _needed_ to be.

Yet, within the space of a moment, it was all gone and he was back to his 'normal life'. Or at least the life he had led before everything changed. Before he fought in wars against gods, men, light and darkness itself. He had loved, lost and lived a thousand times over. His heart was broken in so many ways and into so many pieces he knew he never could mend it alone. He could never get back to who he once was and, if he was really honest, he didn't want to be that guy any more. He was older, yes. Wiser, he hoped so. But he wasn't happy. He had been damned if he was ready to let anyone put him back together again just to be broken again. It would need an army of men to fully put together Lafayette Reynold's shattered, blackened little heart.

-o-

"Hooker, you done interrupted me when I was in the middle of a good morning fuck, you better seriously consider how important it was the get in my business for me to drag my black ass from the trailer for y'all cracker-ass drama queen's!" Lafayette snapped, his hands fastened to his hips, his lips pursed into a thin line and his anger dripping from him, emanating into the atmosphere and almost suffocating Sookie in it's wake. His eyes were black and endless, and Sookie knew that was not good. Sookie noted that, aside for all his flim-flamming, he was still immaculately dressed in an ensemble of denim short-shorts that were scandalously rhinestoned, his deep aubergine purple vest cut to show chest and shoulder perfectly and his long scarf perfectly tied around his head, matching the overall outfit. It made him look all the more intimidating, but she would be damned if she let Lafayette come up hollering in her house like he owned the place when she needed to talk to him. She stood from her seat and matched him, stance for stance and stare for stare.

"Well, good morning to you too Lafayette. Yes of course it's important, did you think I called you so darn early if it wasn't? Come up in my my grandmama's house talking like that! You better apologise right now, shame on yourself! Where are your manners?"

Sookie realised, in that moment, she was becoming her Gran. The scariest part was how okay she as with that thought. Her Gran had been a phenomenal woman of great strength and conviction, who lived by her morals and admitted to no one her mistakes, choosing to live and learn by them instead. Sookie wished to be her one day, as above all her Gran had always been happy. With Sam, she knew she was, and that made her break into a loving, genuine smile that made Lafayette drop on hand and roll his eyes.

"You know, when you smile like that you look just like Big Momma Stackhouse. She smiled at me like that when I stood in this kitchen and tried to shock her by saying I like to take it up the ass."

Lafayette relaxed completely and smiled genuinely, too. He remembered how much he loved Mrs Stackhouse and wished she were his Gran too, and to be reminded of her in that exact moment had always been her way. Even after death he could see her sitting by Sookie's shoulder, keeping her afloat. His anger washed away from him quickly, and he suddenly slumped, showing how tired he really was.

Sookie, observing the change in Lafayette, knew this was her chance to get through to him when he was in this sort of mood.

"She cussed you so bad, not for the news, but because of your language and tone. Even fretted with a slipper if you dare come up in her house cussing again."

Sookie let out a melancholy chuckle as Lafayette looked at the kitchen floor.

"She never did tell my mama."

"That's because she knew she was only gonna ever holler at you. She wasn't sure your mama would be so...controlled."

Sookie reached out with her mind and soothed Lafayette, holding out a hand and placing it on the back of the vacant seat beside her.

"Grab some coffee and bacon and sir, I've got to tell you what happened last night, then you need to decide what you want to do."

Lafayette, full of hesitation but lacking the strength or will to fight, took the offered seat, ready to hear the news. Sookie braced herself, but didn't have time to start before Sam, who had been silently watching the whole scene, turned to look at Lafayette.

"I know what you've said before, and you you described yourself in terms of the magic within you. You don't believe it's true worth, or it's value. You're almost running away from it. You're not just some junk yard gypsy peddling quick tricks and small bursts of elemental magic, no matter what you want to tell people. Eric came over last night..."

Sookie saw Lafayette's body tense briefly. She remembered what Eric had done to Lafayette, and could see the scene replay across Lafayette's skin. She explained what had happened, how it had all gone down. She explained that there would be another meeting here tonight, and that Lafayette should really be part of it. He needed to know some things, and Sookie had a theory that would blow him away. Her final words rang in his ears and drowned out the everyday noises of the world outside of his mind, and Lafayette used every inch of himself to keep from sinking into the ground as it opened up beneath him. Sookie was confident in her ideas, she was sure, and she knew he needed to know so he could get ready. 'Be prepared', as both Sookie and her Gran always said before any major decision was made. He agreed to come back later, to meet with the vampires, to discuss the action plan, and even to go with Sam and Sookie to England, but he still couldn't digest the news. He couldn't shake it off. He climbed into the cab of his truck and put his head against the cool plastic of the wheel, no amount of hip-hop shielding him from what he had just heard. The conversation had gone on for a good hour before he took his leave, but those words were still crashing around like lightning in his mind's storm. Never relenting, never ceasing, no eye of the storm in sight. He took a deep breath and repeated them, aloud and alone, and let the pieces fall into place.

"You're a wizard, Lafayette."


	5. Chandelier

**Chapter 5: Chandelier**

 _But I'm holding on for dear life, won't look down, won't open my eyes_

 _Keep my glass full until morning light, 'cause I'm just holding on for tonight_

 _Help me, I'm holding on for dear life, won't look down, won't open my eyes_

 _Keep my glass full until morning light, 'cause I'm just holding on for tonight_ _  
_ _On for tonight_

 ** _SIA - Chandelier_**

"Severus Snape, it is a great honour as Minister of Magic to present you with our highest acknowledgement, Order of Merlin, First Class, for your bravery and integral assistance during the Second Wizarding War. We are most honoured to offer you this token of our esteem, and to offer a hand in friendship, on behalf of the Ministry and the Wizarding world!"

The room erupted with unexpected applause as Severus stood from his seat behind Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic, who motioned for Severus to step forward and enjoy the prestige, if only for an instant.

"May your path be filled with light and a new hope for the future..." Kingsley began, his hand resting warmly on Severus's shoulder.

"How very...sentimental..."

From the back of the crowded hall, a sneering voice rose, icy cold and dripping with sarcasm, drowning out the roaring crowd. Severus's eyes followed the sound and met cruel, silver streaks of pure hatred and loathing. He shuddered, those eyes haunted him every day, the memories being dragged to the forefront of his memory and clouding his coherency, drowning in a sudden, uncontrollable urge to run that he could not explain.

"Mrs Malfoy, a pleasure to receive your presence on this most prestigious occasion! I do hope the interruption was warranted?" Kingsley beamed at the cause of the sudden hushed awe that had engulfed the room, though the smile never truly met his eyes.

"It is always a pleasure, Shacklebolt, to see ones oldest and dearest _friend_ alive and well..." Narcissa's blonde hair was swept into an auspicious braid across her shoulder, an unusual look for a woman who preferred to match her husband. Her long, billowing black robes engulfed her petite frame and made her appear somewhat taller than ever before, her malicious sneer directed at Severus, who now stood shoulder to shoulder with the minister, his hand gravitating towards the wand holstered at his hip.

"I received notice of your being somewhat _reformed_ , Severus, and may I say that _death_ suited you more than this frippery," she tossed a scathing glance from the chain hanging around Severus's neck to the parchment in Kingsley's hand, neatly tied with a golden ribbon.

In an instant, Narcissa had raised her wand and a jet of sickly green sparks erupted wordlessly. Six Aurors who had trained in on Narcissa managed to stun her in time, her wand flying from her hand and the spell redirecting to hit the large chandelier buffeted against the connection. With a roaring rumble, the chandelier swayed ominously, small shards of interrupted glass falling upon the now panicked, screaming guests who were instantly frantic, crawling aside to make room for the potential cataclysm. Kingsley flicked his wrist and wandlessly cast reparo on the fallen glass, the chandelier settling to its stoic position once again. The crowd remained agitated as the Auror's placed magic inhibiting cuffs on Narcissa, who hissed and spat like a cat in a thunderstorm. Her mane of platinum hair whipped wildly in it's now dishevelled braid and she screamed obscenities Severus was shocked to escape her once poised, calculated and controlled vocabulary and suddenly he blanched.

"Kingsley, you need to check her eyes, I do not think she knows what she is doing!"

Severus gripped Kinglsey's are and pulled him round to get his full attention. The Minister stood to his full, grand height, his presence permeating the rooms temperamental atmosphere and once again drawing a hush to the crowd.

"Gentleman and Ladies, we apologise for this interruption..."

He looked at Severus and felt the nervous grip the man had on his arm, understanding silently the message he was trying to convey.

"I am sure you all agree that we have had enough... _fireworks_...for the evening and I bid you all good night and a pleasant journey home. Please feel free to collect a gratuity gift from the main reception of the Ministry for all of your attendance this evening, and I hope that your discretion will be guaranteed, considering the circumstances. We once again congratulate all tonight who have received their awards, and particularly give thanks for the miraculous return of Msrs Remus Lupin, Sirius Black and Severus Snape to the wizarding community".

His words were final, the crowd sensed this and, like zombies descending from the crypt, the crowd filed out of the hall, leaving only a handful of ex-Order members, aurors and, unknown to the crowd, a small bejewelled, jade green beetle, barely noticeable against the well chosen green brocade curtains that flanked the large stain glass depiction of the founders of the Ministry that bathed the room in kaleidoscopic vibrancy. The large doors closed on the scene, and the players decended to where the aurors now had Narcissa, seated and silenced, in one of the chairs on the back row. Her eyes darted quickly around the group of people with fear and desperation, the cold glint completely removed as she settled into stunned silence of her own volition. The auror closest to her was recognisable in an instant as he undid the charm on the now utterly ashen faced and confused woman. Harry then removed the binds from her hands, but retained her wand, not comfortable in letting her have _all_ of her liberties.

"What happened? Where am I? Why is my hair in this hideous...thing? And why is Severus..."

Her eyes took in the sight before her and wavered, moving slowly up and down Sirius, then Remus, then lastly Severus with confusion, pain and terror.

"You...you were..."

Kingsley moved to Narcissa, then, and crouched to meet her, something that was no mean feat for the impressive mass of Kingsley Shacklebolt. His dark eyes studied her face without saying a word, silently scrutinising every line and curve.

"Severus, please, your thoughts?"

Severus cleared his throat and, like the minister, studied the face of the woman he had been friends with since their first meeting when she was a fledgling debutante and the soon to be bride of his school friend. She had aged well, but the severe lines on her face showed a haggard and exhausted woman who had seen ultimate suffering, having lost her family. The last all had been aware, Narcissa had reconnected with her sister Andromeda and was being a model aunt to her great nephew, Teddy, the son of Remus Lupin (who now eyed Narcissa with curiosity) and Nymphadora Tonks, her niece. Nothing could be said for what she had risked, and how she had herself played a role in the demise of the Dark Lord. Severus could not fathom who, or what, was behind her actions, but two things were certain. Firstly, Narcissa was no more aware of what had occurred as anyone else in that room, and secondly...

Severus suddenly, before anyone could stop him, had whipped his wand from his side and pointed it at the great windows that showered the hall in an ironically warm light, silently shooting a jet of pale blue towards what seemed to be a curtain. With a sudden screech and a diatribe to rival Narcissa's earlier exclamations, one that was undoubtedly common to the owner of the screech, a small woman with bottle blond hair and strict apparel was floating in mid-air, almost painfully thrashing against the spell holding her firmly above ground. All looked up into the furious face of Rita Skeeter as Severus slowly floated her to the ground, allowing her struggles to make her look utterly ridiculous before plopping her between aurors Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, his godson standing behind Ron and smirking wickedly.

"Nice one, Unk, I was wondering if she would be somewhere around here earwigging on the proceedings," Draco folded his arms and positioned himself closer to his mother, inadvertently showing his full presence and calming her fear.

Skeeter surveyed her surroundings and, finding herself at a loss for a sympathetic audience, she stayed silent, but her shrewd eyes darted to everyone around her with a look of pure hatred. She straightened herself up as Kingsley draped his cloak around her, making her attempts at seeming taller fade under its sheer bulk. Not saying a word, she drew her lips into an insipid smirk, almost daring the crowd around her to speak.

"I see that I have been somewhat...um...caught, so to speak," She tried to locate a place to potentially run to, but the bodies of Ron, Harry, Hermione and now Draco seemed to close in the gaps, making a perfect circle around her.

"Well, Ms Skeeter, what a pleasant surprise! I was unaware you would be _dropping in_ on the festivities," Kinglsey Shacklebolt oozed confidence and collected reassurance, but Rita knew full well the depth of trouble she was slowly sinking into. Her smirk faded at his words, and her eyes darted to the ground in a look of shame and dread.

"I thought I made it expressly clear that all media persons should be present _outside_ of the hall, and that photographic and interview opportunities would be granted upon special request? Did you not receive my memo at the Prophet?" Any warmth Kingsley may have previously alluded to in his voice was now replaced by an authoritorial, dark and almost angry tone. Rita did not raise her eyes from the ground.

"Kinglsey, I think I should confess something to you now..."

Hermione stepped forwards, looking up into the warm, molten eyes of the minister. He looked upon her warmly, in an almost avuncular manner and motioned for her to continue her speech.

"I believe that Ms Skeeter has perhaps overstepped her boundaries, especially as she is still yet to register as an animagus, even though she was original found out in our fourth year at Hogwarts to be one by myself, Harry and Ron. But perhaps this one time we can let her go without any further embarrassment to herself."

All eyes fell on Hermione, her apparent benevolence and sudden incorporation into the surroundings making everyone look towards her in confusion. Hermione had been apprenticing under Kingsley for the past year, and had grown through her time at the ministry to become a shrewd political thinker. She had worked for a new Magical Creature initiative which now incorporated all magical beings under the same laws and governance, with the same rights as their wizarding counterparts. She had even managed, in her short time, to convince the tribes of vampires and werewolves to live in some form of peaceful accord. Of course, America was still a problem, a governance unto themselves, but England and Europe were on the same page, as were countries as far reaching as Indonesia and Australia, in terms of their treatment of other magical entities. She had also managed to bring S.P.E.W to the attention of the ministry, through she had still yet to get the department for House Elf Rehabilitation to fully cement. House Elves, Hermione had finally realised _enjoyed_ having a family to serve, thrived in said environment, so a fostering of house elves system had been structured to allow for them to report abuse to other elves, known as the Free Elf Council, without being persecuted or feeling that they had betrayed their masters. Having achieved so much and asked for so little in return for her free reign of her small portion of the ministry, Kingsley had taken her under his wing and now, three years later, she was showing major promise. After the war, Hermione had been broken, looking for ways to stay out of the public eye. Her relationship with Ron had collapsed and settled back into a familial warmth and love, although the break up had been hard, especially considering _the reason_ behind it. She held no malice towards Draco , well...not anymore anyway...and had moved on to take him also into her very small and protected circle of friends and family.

"I feel that Ms Skeeter will not publish whatever she felt she would, and is very sorry for her actions. Perhaps we can just let her move on quietly and get herself down to the registration office, we can forget all about this...can't we Ms Skeeter?"

Hermione's eyes shone with mirth, but there was a darkness deep within the pits of her eyes shining through that made Rita swallow hard and simply nod. Something inside Hermione Granger burned passionately, and her want for justice and peace even extended to those who were, by all others, deemed as unworthy. But, Rita realised, this did not make her any weaker than any other person within the Order of the Phoenix, but in fact pushed her ahead of all of it's members, as she almost held the countenance of a Queen amongst her people, without ever asking to be crowned. Rita disliked her even more in that moment, but she did not feel compelled to retort. She simply bowed in a simpering fashion to the minister, then to Harry and Ron, and finally she caught Hermione in a level stare and nodded her thanks before scuttling from the room at lightning bug speed.

"What did you do that for, you know that woman is a little pest!"

Ron shook his head and looked at Hermione. Draco chuckled and answered for her.

"Because, babe, now who holds all the cards?" Draco and Hermione shared a look that, if anyone had not known, was very Slytherin of the both of them. The moment was broken when a small, almost unheard cough emanated from Narcissa, who had calmly watched in a dazed silence as the scene had played itself out. Eyes turned upon her, in her dishevelled state, and she flushed uncharacteristically. Her eyes had changed colour, and the usually striking red of her lips had faded to a pinky red, matching her flushed cheeks. Draco stepped back and carefully looked at his mother, noticing that her usually platinum blond hair had faded into a dirty blond with flecks of dark brown. Before his very eyes, his mother melted away to reveal a young woman of medium build, with dark hair and an olive tanned complexion. Dark eyes circled the group around her as the glamorous Narcissa Malfoy contorted and changed, hips widening slightly and body shrinking to at least 3 inches shorter. Draco's usually jovial and playful expression became hard as stone, his voice dripping venom as he watched the woman who now sat before them cower under his stare. He opened his mouth to speak, but each word echoed danger around the hall and every person tensed, not sure of his next move. Without moving a muscle except for the expressions on his face, Draco's focussed remained on the stranger. He glanced at the wand that had been retrieved, and saw with relief it was not actually Narcissa's. That, at least, was a good sign. His questions were quiet, but still breached the silence of the room, filling the eyes of the captured woman with a deep, indescribable fear.

"Who are you? And where the fuck is my mother?"


	6. Arrow

**Chapter 6 – Arrow**

 _Oh your love keeps me in chains  
Just like the river I come back again  
Oh your fear keeps me right here  
You'll be the arrow, the arrow_

 _Rag'N'Bone Man – Arrow_

The room was silent, a thick oppressive feeling of dead air permeated the small group who had taken to aggressively standing around the now quivering figure, bent double, head bowed, eyes boring a hole into the floor. The hair had transfigured from the striking Malfoy platinum to a tawny brown, falling in curling rivulets across small shoulders and covering the face of the imposter. The ultimate subservience of the pitiful creature before them made everyone retreat into their own minds, collating questions and calming themselves. The only one who remained staring was Draco, eyes burning with ice and fire, lips pulled into a legendary sneer that would have made his father proud. Ron held his hand, tight, and occasionally gave a reassuring squeeze. For all of his menace, Draco knew if Ron let go, there was no telling how badly this woman would be hurt. Draco could not account for his actions if left to his own autonomy, and the presence of his husbands love and magic kept him safely away from the precipice.

"I will ask again, now we have all had our quiet time, where is my mother, you loathsome little bitch?" The words were dripping with the venom of a true snake, quiet and laced with an unspoken threat of impending violence. Ron took the opportunity to take Draco by the shoulders, inevitably pinning him to the spot. He knew his husband, and even he was quelled by _that look_. Deep down in his stomach, a knot was forming and spinning, as it had been a long time since he had seen Draco's magic crackling around him. It only ever happened in moments of extreme emotion, and Ron was sure that if he didn't stop Draco now, there would be no turning back.

"Come on, Dray, let's leave the Ministry to question her, whoever _she_ is. You'll be no closer to finding the answer by intimidation." Ron tried to pull Draco's attention away from the supplicated figure, but found him to be made of stone and unwilling to budge.

"Listen to your husband, Draco, leave this to us. I will come and get you as soon as we have completed our…inquiries…" Kingsley's voice was smooth and honeyed as melting chocolate pouring from a fountain, but his eyes were unblinking and unreadable. Draco remained unmoved, however, when Severus stepped forward and took his godson's arm, Draco's eyes slowly drew away from the captive and looked imploringly into the obsidian pools of his godfather's eyes. Severus could see the hate, the rage and the disgust, but he also saw what only perhaps Ron or Draco's parents would recognise in their stoic son, abject terror. He nodded once, wordlessly conveying his thoughts, and with this silent exchange Draco turned on his heel and swept from the hall, with Ron keeping pace. As the doors closed behind the couple, a low chuckle could be heard from the previously silent woman. The chuckle rose and quickly twisted into a maniacal laugh, the culprit throwing her mahogany curls back and almost howling now, tears trickling down her cheeks. It was Hermione who moved quicker than all, her eyes fixed upon the figure, her wand pointing directly between the deep purple eyes. She had never seen such a shade, and Hermione stood still whilst she took in the facial features. A rounded, heart shaped face, reminiscent of an owl, with large eyes of deepest mauve – an odd shade that somehow caught Hermione off-guard – her lips were thin and didn't seem to fit the otherwise rosy demeanour. It was a face that held a certain subtle beauty, certainly not a face one would associate with subterfuge. Hermione hardened her stance and slightly twisted her wand into the exposed skin, causing the woman to cease laughing and hitch a breath in her throat, those eyes turning from the brink of insanity and, taking in by whom she was currently being threatened, melted into panic and fear.

"By order of the Ministry of Magic, and under the witness of all present, you _will_ answer our questions, otherwise you will be subject to the Ministry protocols and procedures for detainees", Hermione spoke steadily, her use of words quirking the lips of both Harry and Kingsley into the slightest of smiles. Only Hermione would quote the Auror's statutes in an event like this, even though she had shown no interest in entering the Auror's department.

"I think that is my line…" Harry chuckled, keeping his eyes on the woman in the chair.

"Or indeed min…" Kingsley pointed out, looking over to Harry and sharing a silent moment of humour.

The woman still had her eyes focussed on Hermione with a fixed determination but, as the seconds dragged by, she seemed to become more frustrated. The point rose when, after clearly failing at some hidden task, she sighed and threw her head back to remove any hair from her face. She took in a deep, almost laboured breath.

"How did you resist?" She asked, tilting her head further away from the wand that still was firmly in place. "No one can resist my magic." The woman's accent was a rich, deep drawl and Hermione for a moment was deeply concerned and perplexed. She removed her wand and took a step back, never taking her eyes from the woman before her.

"Hermione? You ok?" Harry went to stand closer to his friend now, as she had turned ghostly pale. Hermione closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, letting the air escape her lungs slowly to ensure she was fully prepared.

"Nicely played. Very nicely played. I commend you for your ingenuity. You managed to _almost_ dupe everyone into believing you were Narcissa imperiused. The problem you have here is that your magic would not hold out for as long as you thought, Fairy, not when surrounded by the iron in this room. You _almost_ had me. What do you want?"

Hermione had begun to prowl backwards and forwards, like a cat lining up a jump, her eyes never leaving the woman on the chair, who was now showing signs of being very afraid. Upon the mention of being a fairy, the woman shook her mane of wild locks, allowing her ears to fully protrude, and gnashed her now unearthly sharp teeth at Hermione in a savage attempt to free herself from her chains. The overt movement had the opposite effect as the chains tightened, and parts of the fairies flesh began to burn, steam rising from the pale and almost translucent skin.

"Bitch, you know why we are here."

"We? Who are we?" Severus asked, his robes beginning to slightly billow against him as he pointed his wand at the imposter. He moved his line of sight to Hermione, and the look on her face sent a shiver through him. She almost looked feral, her face as hard as stone and her eyes burning with a flame he had never seen. This woman had fought in a war, but never had she looked more aggressive, powerful and, above all, pissed off. The thought alone briefly cracked the Potion's master's usually stoic demeanour. This young woman was always the most special of the Golden Trio, but now he could physically see why.

Hermione chose a different tact, crouching to meet the woman face to face, her wand still visible and now being slowly twisted between her fingers in an almost flippant way. She smiled, but it did not meet her eyes, as she stared into the garnet holes of eyes shining angrily back at her.

"Now. I'm going to count to three…"

_-0-_

Lafayette's head was still reeling. Well, not reeling per say, rather it was pounding. Rather than deal with the news he received from Sookie he had flown out of the Stackhouse home in an angry daze and blustered to the 7/11, grabbed a fifth of vodka, threw himself into the trailer and wrapped himself a fat zoot and ordered Chinese food. He didn't want to deal, he just wanted to forget. When he had said he wanted more drama and was bored, he didn't necessarily mean _directed at him_. After everything he'd been through, from being locked up by crazy strong vamps to losing the love of his life to magic, he had been through more than enough. Why did Sookie always have to bring him trouble? That Tinkerbell bitch needed to keep him out of her business, otherwise it would be the death of him.

 _But it isn't her business baby, it's a problem for all of you._

The voice of Jesus added to Lafayette's already delicate disposition. He knew that Jesus was right, but h wasn't going to admit it. Rolling off his cot, he realised he needed to talk to someone. He needed to really talk to Sookie, without all those feline faces staring him down and expecting him to magically click his fingers and accept the fact he is a "wizard". Lafayette audible scoffed and rolled his eyes at the thought. He knew what he was. He didn't need some fairy to trip up in his life and turn it inside out. Did he look like some Harry Potter, hocus pocus fool?

"They been watching too many movies", Lafayette said to the empty trailer, and the chuckle within his mind made him feel so close to being wrapped in a hug that he sighed deeply.

 _You know they were books first right? And you also know that some fictions are based on facts._

"Ah leave me alone, you're trying to tell me that there's a big old school in England where all these little pitney's run around with they pointy hats and cast spells and shit with broken off tree twigs? Fuck that."

 _Weirder things happen every day, mi amore. If you haven't noticed, I'm talking to you from beyond the grave…_

"Yeah I know that hooker, that's not the point!" Suddenly Lafayette's face became full of suspicion as it dawned on him what he was hearing.

"What do you know?"

 _I'm sure I don't know what you mean…_

"Nah nah nah, bitch, you seem far too comfortable with all this shit. So imam ask again. What. Do. You. _Know_?"

He felt the silence in his mind, and searched for any trace of Jesus, but he'd disappeared.

"Pussy-ass…" Lafayette mumbled, only to feel a shuddering warmth engulf him. His eyes misted over and he felt like he was floating on a cloud of nothingness. His fingers gripped something soft as he was propelled into darkness. He closed his eyes to block out the dizzying feeling rushing through him when, just as suddenly as it started, he was drawn to a sharp halt and unceremoniously dumped on a cold, hard floor.

"Much better, now at least I can talk to you properly, if only briefly". Jesus stood, his arms folded, waiting for Lafayette to gain focus. As it dawned on Lafayette that he was in a room that was basically a black box, he saw Jesus standing before him. Lafayette reached out, but Jesus moved away.

"No, my love, we cannot touch. It's part of the rules here, but we can talk. Well. You can listen, for a change." A devilish grin crossed his face as he waved to one wall and a larch, arched window appeared against it, but the view was not of Merlotte's. It wasn't even Bon Temps.

"Come see." Jesus inclined his head an Lafayette, now on his feet, wandered over to the window and looked across a sprawling forest. A forest which appeared to be moving. Like a movie before him, the landscape zoomed towards an enormous castle, shrouded in nightfall, the only lights burning in windows and through the large open doors leading inside. The image stopped here, and Lafayette gasped. The image was so familiar, he'd seen it in the movies, but not quite. There were subtle changes, like a large fence surrounding the edge of the forest. The little hut he recognised from when Jesus had made him watch the movies in a marathon was positioned near an impressively sized lake, purple smoking billowing into the inky black sky. The spires and turrets of the castle threw a gothic silhouette across the grounds, and Lafayette breath was stolen away by the beauty of the place.

"This bullshit is Disney, for real," he finally said, turning away from the window and pacing in circles. Jesus watched him with worry in his eyes. Lafayette was being far to calm.

"Baby, you ok?" Jesus sounded concerned but Lafayette was lost in his own head, which was never a good place to be lost. All of a sudden he let out a laugh that rumbled through him. He was laughing so hard he was shortened of breath and was feeling light headed. Wiping his eyes he saw the concern in Jesus' face and laughed harder. He felt euphoric, this was all just too much and the weed was really kicking in now.

"Fucking faeries, maenads, vampires, werewolves, beatnik witches, the rebirth of Lilith, shape shifters, ghosts and rednecks. I've seen 'em all, maybe it's time for a change of scene. You need to send me back baby, I need to talk to Sookie."

 _You're already back baby._

Lafayette blinked a few times before the lights returned to his vision. There he was, in his fabulous trailer, surrounded by his fabulous things. Now he needed to move his fabulous ass and find Tink, before he changed his mind or, which still sounded like a viable option, finished that bottle of wine from last night and rolled another joint.


	7. E Lucevan Le Stelle

**AN: Hello readers! I've been remiss in posting, and for that I apologise, a lot has gone on in the last few months - life is definitely a rollercoaster! But I'm back and hoping to not only complete this chapter - updates yay! - but also post a few more. I have no excuse really, I'm stuck on a train for the next few hours with nothing to do but type. Please feel free to review, let me know where I am messing up xD I'm my own editor, so please excuse and continue to excuse typos. I'm a little rusty with this story, so please also feel free to let me know if I'm getting confused as I fiddle about. I will end this tale :)**

 **Chapter 7 – E Lucevan Le Stelle**

 _Svanì per sempre il sogno mio d'amore._

(Forever, my dream of love has vanished.)

 _L'ora è fuggita, e muoio disperato!_

(That moment has fled, and I die in desperation!)

 _E muoio disperato!_

(And I die in desperation!)

 _E non ho amato mai tanto la vita..._

(And I never before loved life so much...)

 _Puccinni (Tosca) – E Lucevan Le Stelle_

It was a rare and terrifying breath of cold air when Eric Northman, Southern Vampire King and Lord of the Bijou, dreamt whilst dead to the world. Often people wonder what happens when vampires camp down for the day, but it is commonly believed, quite wrongly so, that they literally _die_ for the day. Nothing moves, and the breath stills like the day we all one day greet. They are no longer of this world, and human's have many varying notions of what any other plain may appear to be. The truth, though quite dull, was that they were asleep. It is only through force of habit that many vampires breath, what with the being undead factor to their magical existence, so when sleeping their mind adopts an almost whimsical drop of all pretence, as if the vampire's body was free to be it's natural state. Eric could not recall if he had ever dreamt before the night he found his soulmate. He had always been quiet minded, even when alive, and was very rarely plagued by his subconscious when awake or asleep regarding what he needed to do to survive. But, on the night he was first burnt by eyes of burning hazel, beautiful orbs tattooed in his minds eye. He could not fathom a world wherein these eyes did not exist, and cursed the fates that he had not discovered this world sooner. He woke from his nightmare clutching his chest, as if he still had a heartbeat, and felt the cold, sluggish fall of tears drip onto his chest. Memories of the dream, and what had caused such a frightening occurrence, swam through Eric's mind as he replayed the reasons for his disquiet. This wasn't the first time of recent he had dreamed of anything at all, his sleep had been met by the peaceful silence, and he was sure this would not be the last until he saw those eyes again.

 ** _Ten Years Ago_**

Eric Northman had, of course, been less than thrilled at the plans laid before him. He would have been more impressed if at least another zero was on the end of the figure scrawled lazily across the cheque, and the blueprints were incredibly asinine. He thumbed idly at his diary for the next month and sighed. There was nothing in particular that drew his attention to the world, not even the idle wittering of his wife with the foreign vampire, in this exquisite example of baroque splendour of an office, trying to assimilate a deal to provide military aid in exchange for land, money and influence. Eric and Freyda had somehow managed to live through this not too tedious marriage, and were now the strongest vampires in the United States, and across a lot more of the globe besides, but he still felt compelled to pull away from his wife. She was ambitious, ruthless, decisive and strong, an ideal mate for life. But he did not love her. In fact, he wasn't even certain he liked her. If he was honest, he never had. Some days he felt pangs of guilt and loss for Sookie, but he knew she was much happier where she was. Sam was good for her, she was too good for him, but they were the best fit as a couple. Eric could never give her what Sam could, Eric knew and had accepted this. In truth, he was envious of it and he would have given up everything to be to Sookie what Sam had been all along. Good enough.

Eric could not excuse his love of Europe, he had always wanted to return as it held the most culture and enlightenment, from the smoke and lights of London to the sensual, sweeping curves of the Seine, he breathed Europe in with gusto whenever he returned. Of course, America had all it's merits, and it helped that a foreign twang always impressed the average American girl into a state of pre-orgasmic trepidation which made for all the more succumbed a donor. But Europe still held such mystery to him, and was wrought with that mysticism that seemed to beckon to a vampire's soul, if they were still in possession of a soul. Eric picked up his glass and swirled the ruby contents languidly, throwing a glance at the graceful vampire beside his wife. Romane Effitiere exuded a calm and confidence that provided incite into his age as a vampire, it was clear he was as old as Eric and Freya, potentially older, and had the look of one who had been milk fed as a youth. Romane turned then to give Eric a piercing look, his dark eyes seemingly starring through Eric's very body and finding him wanting. Romane was aware of the ruthless and powerful nature of the vampire's with whom he had set court, but was not overly interested in what they wished to bargain, just as Eric was unconvinced in the cause that Romane had incessantly drawled on about as an introduction to this tenuous meeting.

"I work on behalf of a powerful being, one whom would wish to set the world to a new order, one focussed on power and purity. The vampires of my clan in France have joined him in his wish to conquer wizarding Britain, and we will aid him as he moves towards the rest of the world. His vision is of a land where only the purest of bloodlines dominate, and are left unsullied by the interbreeding that is currently taking place. With this in mind, he has promised us that we will be acknowledged as a species by all, and the transition 'into the light', as it has been so eloquently put by your Americans, will be one of ease and acceptance. We will also be given hunting privileges openly, to have the ability to court and feed from the human, non-magical populace that the call 'Muggles'. He extends this offer to the Americas, of course..."

Romane's voice had trailed off and Freya had began with her line of questions, at which point Eric had zoned out completely. These regimes never worked, or worked for a short period of time. He had seem them over the years coming and going, leaving destruction and carnage in their wake. Eric knew, too well, that throughout history the inevitability of failure always left the losing side branded as 'the bad guys', and he had worked hard to improve his public image to a point where he was no longer considered a bad guy. Of course, he had done this for one reason only. For Sookie. But that did not mean he wished to unravel all that he had achieved for some lunatic with a twisted vision of reality. Freya seemed keen to speak with him alone, and excused them both from the parley, guiding Eric seamlessly to the rooms adjacent to the beautiful chambers.

"So, what are your thoughts, as my consult?" Freya eyed Eric with suspicion, she was not sure the Viking would respond, as she honestly was not sure he had been listening. To her, this scheme of Voldemort's sounded outlandish, and she knew that Romane's clan had become mystified by the empty promises of a madman, but she needed to know Eric was on her side. She needed to be sure that she was right. As a relatively old and ferocious vampire queen, she knew her way through the mire that was politics amongst the magical races. She had, in the past, supported a similar wizard, Grindelwald, only to be thrown under the proverbial bus the moment he began to lose. She would not subject her people to that again. But she needed Eric's support, as she knew this was not going to end in a clean fight.

"Why is it that, although we are a long living race that see what human beings do to each other, we still become bewitched with the thought that we will be given everything we desire without paying a price?"

Eric looked nonchalantly at his long and dexterous fingers before looking up to see that knowing look in Freya's eyes. _Thank goodness_ , he thought, _she feels the same_.

"I agree, I do not wish to align myself with the losing side, not again. We both have too much to lose. Eric?" Freya's voice became soft and questioning, to the point of almost pleading, a tone he had never heard from her before.

"Yes, my queen?" Eric inclined his head and moved closer, placing his forehead on her's to allow for an open channel of communication that they both knew the eavesdroppers could not hear.

"I need you to promise me that, when this is done, you will find out who the winning side will be and join ourselves to them. There is a war coming, and we will either be eaten alive or we will be victorious. I opt for victory, never again will I chose to fight alongside a deranged wizard, or man, with disillusions of grandeur."

Eric simply nodded against her. He knew where this was going, he had seen the signs as he entered when there was no others present except their host. This was a do or die situation, and he and Freya would be lucky if they left with just doing. He flexed his shoulders and both straightened up, curtly nodding at each other before re-entering the room wherein Romane sat calmly, both hands folded in his lap, a smile plastered to his insipid face. Eric scowled, thinking that he hated being underestimated, especially by one who had not done sufficient research into who he is. He had advised against Freya's visit, but she had been insistent. Deep down, Eric honestly believed she had tired of this world, but to simply give oneself over to the true death was an act seen as cowardice to those who had lived as long as she and Eric. No, she wanted to go down fighting, an attractive element to her character that Eric sympathised with.

"I am afraid, Romane, that the offer is simply not what we as part of the American Vampire's Association are interested in taking up. We decline your _interesting_ offer." Eric gracefully stood to leave, offering his hand to Freya, who seemed unsettled when taking it. As she stood, she wobbled, a sight Eric had not witnessed before, and he quickly manoeuvred to catch her as she lost her footing. A wicked smirk crossed Romane's lips, which Eric clocked out of the corner of his eye, but he ignored this to attend to Freya, who had turned an odd shade of bruised, the frailty of her touch making Eric pay closer attention to the room around him. The once uninhabited room seemed to be moving in it's darkest corners, and Eric's fangs slowly slid out to bare themselves as he held Freya close. Lowering his voice and placing his lips close to her ear, he muttered, "Can you fight?". The look in her eyes as she turned them to him spoke volumes, and he watched as they pleaded for him to run, but Eric Northman never ran from a fight, even if it were his last. He braced himself, holding Freya up to give the illusion that she was disaffected. How could she have been so trusting as to actually drink from the proffered cup? Eric never drank during meetings such as these, he had learnt his lessons and imparted these to Freya on multiple occasions. Her feelings of invincibility were always going to be her downfall, and he knew, without having to ask, that she had been poisoned by something he neither understood or recognised. This did not bode well.

Eric turned his eyes to a grinning Romane, who had also chosen to stand, his hands behind his back in a clear show of triumph. Eric admired the smugness of the man, who would have showed the same level of cockiness had the situation been reversed. However, Eric saw the fatal flaw in this plan, and returned the triumphant smirk, making Romane falter in his internal congratulations. Eric knew that, if this had been reversed and he had been Romane, the one thing he would never _ever_ had done was back Eric Northman into a corner for him to fight out of. Freya had gone limp in his hands, and he watched as her skin began to peel from her body at an agonising slowness. She placed a hand on his cheek and smiled, like she accepted her death willingly, and Eric took that as his signal to strike. He lay her down like a fine piece of silk, careful to ensure her comfort, and pulled himself up to his full, impressive height, pulling out his shoulders and flexing menacingly. Beneath the fresh pressed Italian suits, the expensive finery and the well maintained mane of hair, he was still a Viking, born during the height of a roaring storm, bane of his enemies and legend. He rolled his neck from side to side and removed his suit jacket, never taking his eyes from Romane, who appeared to have lost his previous smugness and also seemed to be backing away, his small and spindly frame no match for the giant at full flex.

"I don't want to know why you thought this was a good idea. But I want you to run and tell your Master, that snake tamer, that we do _not_ respond well to threats. This action you have taken _will_ have it's revenge." Eric quietly spoke, his hands together also behind his back as he very slowly and deliberately stalked forwards. He met Romane, and saw the fear in the vampire's eyes. Old he may be, but he was still a pup compared to Eric, and Romane had known this. It was clear he had hoped his ruthlessness would impress Eric and bring him on board. Instead, it only mad Eric angry. This had taken a very negative turn and, without another word, Romane signalled to the shadows.

Eric expected vampire guards, some form of Were muscle, something he could tangibly access. Instead, the very room began to writhe, like a leviathan waking, and from the very walls shadowed figures rose and screeched like banshees. The beaut of the room was now shrouded in the shadow creatures, all of whom were screaming and floating through the air with a sense of purpose. They were covered in long, black cowls, covering their faces, but the atmosphere in the room shifted with their presence. Eric recognised them vaguely, something he had read about many years ago. He looked around the room for an exit, and spotted the doors leading out being unguarded, he started to make his way towards them. However, he suddenly felt like he did not have the will to run, to survive, something he had always held dear. He felt cold, lonely and, for the first time in his long life, completely helpless. The creatures closed in on him, and he felt again the cold fear of loneliness grip his heart. An ethereal hand came from the cloak of the closest creature, and he suddenly lost all light. The hand beckoned to him, and he tried to fight, but the sadness sweeping across him was strong. This magic was strong, but not strong enough to sway the vampire. He tried to grab the hand as quickly as he could, tried to get a hold of at least one of them, but his attempt was fruitless and he was left, fruitlessly gripping air. Darkness began to swarm him and he resigned himself to it, embarrassed at the ease with which he was giving in to these emotions. He barely noticed the strong arms around his waist, or the rush of wind as he was pulled away. He felt a pull from the proximity of the creatures, the strength of which slowly subsided with distance. He was suddenly being bundled into an Italian sports car, the make and model he failed to recognise as he tried to regain himself. His mind felt fuzzy, like he had woken up after a particularly indulgent night, and he rubbed his temples as he listened to the engine spring to life. The driver's head was facing away from him, and there was no reflection to help him work out his saviour. It did not take long, however, for them to make themselves known.

"Now, what the fuck have you got us into, and why the fuck do I always have to be the one to save your ass?" Pam's southern drawl echoed in his head, and it took all he had not to wretch. As she turned to look him in the eye, to check he was safe, Eric felt swathed in black and, although he would _never_ admit this to anyone else, he felt himself hit the back seat with a very uncouth thud as he passed out, dead to the world.

 ** _Present Day_**

Eric pulled himself from his memories, checking the time before settling once more into a lifeless sleep. If it had not been for Pam, he couldn't even begin to consider what mess he would have found himself in. His final resting thought, before returning to the bliss of oblivion, warmed him, for the events that followed marked the dawning of a new era, one where the tide was quickly changing. Vampires were out and free to roam across the globe; the wizarding community was showing signs of potentially considering doing the same (or at least they were going to talk about it for another ten years and then change their minds...wizards really did have little in the way of backbones, in his opinion), Weres were out too, although their reception was no-where near as pleasant. As Bob Dylan said, the times they were a'changin'.

Although he knew he was still technically on the outs with one of the oldest vampire families in the world, he also knew he would be able to claw his way back into their favour, though laying low for a while would probably help. But how could he? How could he when he knew _she_ was out there, waiting for him? It would have been a moments decision made on the whim of his second in command that could have kept him unaware, in the dark, with no knowledge of who she was, where she came from, her courage, bravery, beauty. Eric allowed his eyes to pop open, taking in his surroundings once more and deciding that perhaps this day was not meant to be slept through. Padding around his blackened rooms, he finally came to rest at his desktop, firing up his laptop with a heavy sigh.

The luminescence of the screen cast an eerie shadow over his naked torso, paling him even further. He checked his emails, noting a few from his newly acquired associates in the Magical Creatures Council, a pretentious group of busy-bodies in Eric's honest opinion - except one of course - who were hellbent on creating 'harmony amongst the magical community' following the defeat of, as Eric always enjoyed referring to him in company as, 'The Snake Guy'. He couldn't blame the youth for trying to right the wrongs of their ancestors, but the preaching and the obsequiousness of the campaign had much to be desired. And that was where Eric came into play. As a front runner for the vampires leaving the crypt and stepping out into the big, wide world, like reformed alcoholics on a Hen Night, Eric knew how to open the hearts and minds of the masses...physically and commercially. He had been drafted into this adventure, was committed to offering his assistance reforming a society he had very little to no real interest in, all as a result of Pam. Pam and her inability to follow basic instructions...


	8. You Take The High Road

**Chapter 8 – You Take The High Road**

 _O ye'll tak' the high road, and I'll tak' the low road,_

 _And I'll be in Scotland a'fore ye,_

 _But me and my true love will never meet again,_

 _On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomond._

 _Composer Unknown – Loch Lomond_

Hogwarts would always cast an impressive shadow upon then wild, untamed and mythical land before it. Shrouded by the dense Forbidden Forest and imposing hills of the Scottish Highlands, unplottable to the average muggle, it towered across it's sprawling grounds. The walls gleamed against the rising sun, and the earth on which it stood breathed deep the autumnal frost pressing it's spine along the impenetrable fortress. Through it's long and illustrious history, it stood as a beacon of hope, prosperity, learning and growth. Now, with it's newly rebuilt turrets and meticulously restored lands following the bloody and bitter aftermath of the recent rise, and devastating fall of the Dark Lord. Although he had not succeeded in his nefarious quest for supremacy, the ramifications of his brutal and brief reign still resonated around the castle and grounds. Students returning for their seventh year, predominantly those affected by the war effort, had begun milling into the castle throughout the day to avoid the grandiose ceremony of the first feast of the year. Headmistress McGonagall stood on the steps of the castle to great their entrance, spotting many familiar faces, and silently mourning the few who were never to grace the halls again. She pulled herself from her melancholy, checking the crowd for those whom she was most keen to grab hold of. She wasn't sure, and had not had much in the way of confirmation of, the return of the Golden Trio, or those who were part of Dumbledore's Army who had survived, however she had a sneaking suspicion that at least _one_ young witch would end up here to complete her final year. Minerva suspected that she would not see Ronald Weasley again within the classroom, unless Draco had take up her offer of the DADA position and Ron was visiting. A chuckle threatened to escape her as she thought of the truly odd coupling, but all the faculty had been in agreement that it was odd, but not unexpected. Harry and Ginny were swept up in their own world, one being scouted for the Holyhead Harpies and the other entering Auror training. How she wished she could rub that in that pug-nosed peonies face, but Delores Umbridge was long gone, and long may she remain so.

Minerva spotted the slinking form of her returning Potions Master, and felt the castle shudder around her. As headmistress, she had an ethereal link to the very soul of the school, and she had suspected for a while that perhaps the place was only humouring her in allowing this haloed access. The school had other plans and she, being very much a believer in the old ways and the true magic, was happy to go along with it's plans. Severus Snape, following his re-emergence into the wizarding world through frankly quite bizarre circumstances, had made contact – after persistent and relentless badgering from Minerva and the Hogwarts fleet of post owls – and had agreed to engage in an advisory role as resident Potions Master, however he would not be teaching the subject. Apparently, the old bat had truly missed his dungeon dwelling or, as he put it, 'bloody peace and quiet'. Minerva had been only too happy to indulge one of her favourite students, though she would of course never allow him to be aware of such a thing. After all he had suffered, and what she herself had subjected him to during his tenure as headmaster, she felt forever in his debt, which she would also never admit to him for fear of his acerbic temperament and the headaches that would accompany such an admission. The castle was jostling her subconscious, like a particularly persistent dog that has noticed you have a bacon sandwich, and she was growing irritable with it's insistence. Something would have to be done to rectify this situation, but it would best be done once Severus was settled into his home, the only real home and family the poor young man had ever known, and had assisted the new Potions teacher in their position. Minerva felt a cold chill run through her, knowing hr recent appointment may cause a level of disgruntled, or downright rude in Snape's case, adjustment. It was then she saw him, bounding like a pup in a park, up the steps towards her before she had time to process his being before her. It still took getting used to.

"Minnie, looking sexy as ever in all that tartan! However have you kept that gorgeous figure for so long?"

"So much for a quiet and dignified entrance, Professor Black. Now put me down this instant and refrain from calling me that dreadful nickname again, or I shall be want to reconsider your post as Potions Master Residing!"

-o0o-

"I knew we should have told Minerva that the others weren't coming back! See, I told you she would be disappointed look at that..." Draco cut himself off mid-sentence upon seeing Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor and Headmistress of Hogwarts, being pulled into a bear hug and swung in a loop by a particularly buoyant Sirius, looking fit and healthy by all accounts. Draco's laughter rang out across the grounds, alerting his partner whose focus was solely upon the emptiness of his stomach, and had made this clear, repeatedly, since their getting on the Hogwarts Express and finding no available trolley.

"Look at what?" Ron grumbled, following Draco's gaze and chuffing irritably. "It's just Sirius being...well..Sirius really."

"Yes but Minerva never blushes, I'm surprised she isn't giggling!"

Ron, now on the verge of murderously impatient, grabbed Draco's hand and vanished their luggage to their allocated quarters in the castle. He had agreed to move in with Draco so soon after the war that he was still in awe of how his life had turned. His mother had welcomed Draco into the family, although the truth behind their coming together wa never fully explained to her, which was a small blessing. Ron had shared a passionate kiss with Hermione as the war's walls closed in on them, and he had found it pleasant, but nothing spectacular. Ron had waited for so long to kiss her that, when the moment arrived, he could not help but feel bitter disappointment that it was not better. With the war ending, Voldemort being defeated, hopefully forever, and with Ron and Hermione discussing what had happened, it came to pass that she, too, had been somewhat underwhelmed once the dust had cleared. It was Hermione, in fact, who subtly asked Ron the question he had never thought to ask himself...

" _Ronald, I do love you very much, but perhaps have you considered that, well, maybe, just a thought mind you, that you may be gay?"_

It had never crossed his mind, but it did explain many things that had unsettled him for a number of years. It wasn't a devastating revelation, rather a subtle admission of something he should have gracefully accepted many years before, especially during the affectionately called "Won-Won years". Draco, however, had been the shocker.

 _ **The Burrow, Ten Years Ago**_

"I am sorry to do this to you, Mrs Weasley. I know it isn't the most desired...situation...but you are the young man's only faimly willing to take him in! His aunt has her hands full looking after her grandson, and the rest are...well you know the family, ma'am..."

The Ministry official gave a conspiratorial grimace which seemed to have the unexpected effect of making Mollly Weasley bristle and puff out angrily, like an owl in the rain, and turn her sternest expression to the young man before her.

"Sir, I do appreciate you bringing my distant cousin to live with us here, although I daresay Arthur could have picked him up on his way home, you didn't need to come out all this way, wouldn't want you to get in any trouble with your Mrs...how long was her final sentence?"

The official turned a shade of puce, and Molly pulled herself up to her full height, which was still nearly a foot shorter than he was, looking over his shoulder at the manicled pale and sickly figure behind him.

"Take those stupid things off the poor boy, does he look like he is going to put up much of a fight?"

Draco turned pale silver eyes to the warm, chocolate eyes of the Weasley matriarch, and in that moment he sealed his fate. The manacles vanished, he found himself bundled between two warm and bountiful bosoms, pressed in tightly with little hope of escape – not that Draco was looking to leave this heavenly spot. Draco had never been cuddled, aside from when he was a young child in the care of his nursemaid, and he was hard pressed to remember, or perhaps even imagine, either of his parents offering sucre in such a demonstrative way. But now, in this moment and for the first time in his dark and stormy life he felt a warmth spreading through him and, without further warning, he felt his own body betraying its years of intense training and welcoming the embrace, tears freely falling, as he became overwhelmed with the emotions radiating from Molly towards him. In such close proximity, he could sense the anger, fear, and overall love the woman exuded, that which he had been secretly jealous of every one of the red headed mob for, and angry that they fecklessly squandered such undying love. He felt a hand brushing through his hair and heard the soft voice lulling him to a state of calm, letting him cry without admonishment or rebuke.

-o0o-

The Ministry official long forgotten, Draco began his house arrest in the Weasley home, helped with the renovations and repairs, and developed a true and genuine love for his Aunty Molly and Uncle Arthur, although he had adopted a habit that he had never expected and thanked the gods daily for; Draco had found laughter, pranks, jokes, hearty meals and, above all, a love of family that he had buried so deeply that even he was unaware of how much he had wanted such things. He had discovered a fascination with muggle technology, all thanks to his days spent in "the Shed" with Arthur, in particular a love of cars. With some coaxing, and a lot of books donated by Hermione, Arthur's newest plaything, a Toyota Prius, became the object of Draco's fascination, and soon was magically enhanced and ready for a test drive. It had almost drawn tears from Draco, who had become a tap since moving in with the Weasley clan, when Arthur had handed him the keys, and a silver and green racing helmet, and allowed Draco the first drive. Though bumpy, it had been exhilarating as he had powered down the country lanes, taking off when safely away from the eyes of muggle's and soaring all the way to Edinburgh. He had never felt so alive up until that moment marking a change he would never regret.

Ron had taken to stardom like a duck to a sandpit, with all of his free time being dominated by other people, his movements judged, his mistakes publicised and his successes subject to the opinions of others. Ron hated every second of the limelight he had once craved, and wished to return to when life had been adventurous, but in a more subtle way. Yes, he had enjoyed some of the fruits of his fame, such as the ease with which he found himself exploring and growing as a human being. However what he had not appreciated, considering his role in the war effort, was the backlash that had hit upon the discovery by Rita Skeeter – a beetle he wished so hard Hermione had crushed or just left in the jar to suffocate – of his sexuality, and his lack of relationship with war heroine, Hermione Granger. The vitriolic stories about how Hermione had clearly "turned him gay", which he honestly could not believe was still a popular view point, and the subsequent Granger/Weasley bashing, the swamps of howlers either condemning his freedom or embracing it, sometimes over-zealously had become a burden to heavy to bare. With Hermione stepping into a Ministry role with ease, contrary to the belief of all that she would pass up the opportunity of being gifted Outstanding N.E. and would return to Hogwarts, it had become too hot to handle in the city. Which is why Ronald Weasley, one third of the Golden Trio, was sitting in the copse close to The Burrow, a kit bag slung over his shoulder and a heavy set brow tired from running away from the papers, or hiding as was more apt the term. He looked over the familiar landscape with a mixture of happiness and regret, spotting the old haunts of he and his siblings and remembering care free times spent playing Quidditch, or hunting colliwobbles with Fred and George – who had convinced him such a thing existed and lived in the hills, eating red-headed boys who didn't give their older twin brother's their desserts. He chuckled as he remembered how his dad had found him stuck in a ditch after chasing after the whispers of one such creature, and the grounding the twins had received as a result of their tricks. It was then, whilst Ron looked over the homely horizon that he spotted the car speeding towards the Burrow. It was new, glistening in the fading rays of a falling sun, and the music from inside could be heard from where he sat. It was clearly a muggle driving, what with the speed and the onslaught of heavy guitar rifts and gravelly male vocals. Ron recognised the band, one Hermione had introduced to his dad, and hummed along to the tune as he made his way towards his family home.

As Ron rounded the bend leading to the magical boundary around the home, he noted the music getting louder. Clearly the car was going to whizz past without a second glace at the open field and crumbling farmhouse disguising the Burrow. The Foo Fighters were cutting through the tranquil evening, with Dave Grohl's melodious vocals floating up to the quickly darkening nights sky. Ron loved this tune, Everlong, and couldn't help singing along loudly as he passed the wards and saw the landscape shift and change around him. He took a deep breath as the guitar solo stretched on for eternity, and his mouth watered hungrily with the onslaught of his mother's home cooking. As he noted the subtle changes to the home, the wide country path leading to the middle of the well presented lawn and petering off towards Arthur's shed, he suddenly felt a colossal magical jolt throw him out of his internal musings, and physically across the grass to the front door of the home. Dust streamed past him in a flurry, and the barrage of sound that hit him as the car he had charted sped and pulled in to a grinding halt outside Arthur's shed, made him choke on the fumes, and rub his rump from the landing. He watched, amazed, as the music was turned off abruptly and the sound of two male voices, laughing and chattering excitedly, closed in on him. Both he recognised, but only one could he fully comprehend as his father's. The other sounded familiar, but he could not place it. Writing it off as probably one of his dad's Ministry friends, Ron dusted himself down and picked up his bag as his the voices grew closer through the settling fog of dust. Ron's expression went from warm recognition at the sight of his father, to a mixture of confusion and anger at the sight of the boy, now more a man, that walked briskly beside him, speaking with just as much excitement about the experience of driving as Arthur himself, who gesticulated and questioned and laughed alongside.

Ron studied the young man who came into view; how he had changed since they last saw one another was astounding. He had gained a little weight, his face more rounded, pleasant and _smiling_ a genuine grin of warmth and, if Ron wasn't mistaken, affection. His hair was a shade of dusty blonde now, the platinum seemingly taking to the sunshine and darkening a touch, but with shocking platinum streaks at the temples and the odd fleck of platinum glinting against the light of the house. He seemed taller, fitter, with more colour in his cheeks. Ron couldn't help but think it, but Draco Malfoy had become quite attractive. Little did Ron suspect that the now quiet young man who had spotted him upon nearing the front door, was thinking rather along the same lines. Ron had adopted a lean yet muscular frame, through his touring with international Quidditch teams over the summer as a "thank you for saving our arses", as he put it later at dinner. He no longer had a mop of red mess, but rather a stylish, throw back style that made him look a bit like a metal head. His long locks were pinned back behind his ears, and a full red beard adorned his face. Draco almost thought he was looking at some form of mountain man, or a lumber jack – although definitely not the kind who liked to press wild flowers – and he felt himself become slightly dry at the back of his throat as he took in what Ron Weasley had grown into in such a short space of time.

One man eyed up the other, and the rest was now history between them. One shotgun wedding, two cursed howlers and a name change later – Draco had been more than happy to adopt the clan's moniker – and now the couple, within a month, were happily, though bizarrely, married and, what was even more bizarre, happy. Both had hidden for far too long, but together they entered the light.


	9. Go With The Flow

**Hello dear readers,**

 **I am sorry I haven't kept this up, and I would like to say a big thank you to the people who have left comments and messages, and I promise I'll try a bit harder. I'm also aware that long gaps cause a few issues, but from here on out stick with me, and you'll never go hungry again! The best is yet to come!**

 **Please like, favourite and above all if you have any points to say please never feel afraid to comment or PM with your opinions, and I'll happily listening. If you guys haven't noticed, I make a lot of typos so if anyone fancies a bit of editing feel free to PM me too, might keep me on the straight and narrow posting!**

 **Quick disclaimer, I don't own any of these characters, but the story and what we see unfold is mine, inspired by the characters I have loved for a long time. Thank you Charlaine Harris and JK Rowling for giving the fanfiction community such a rich palette to paint with!**

 **TTFN x**

 **Chapter 9 - Go With The Flow**

 _It's so safe to play along_

 _Little soldiers in a row_

 _Falling in and out of love_

 _With something sweet to throw away._

 _But I want something good to die for_

 _To make it beautiful to live._

 _Queens of the Stone Age - Go With The Flow_

That evening, Minerva gathered all of her returning chicks for a private drink in the Headmistress' office, smiling broadly at them as the troop glided through the entrance. Draco and Ron entered, hands tightly clasped together, eyes brimming with admiration and love for one another. The sight made Minerva chuckle, when remembering the bitter childhood rivalry between not only the children but their families, the prejudice and hate that had melted away. Draco appeared to be carrying a sadness, an anxiety, that was playing with his magical aura, and the castle was feeding this message to Minerva in it's own special way. Following the couple came a grinning Sirius and scowling Severus, and once again Minerva could not keep from marvelling at the miraculous return. When she had discovered the true extent of the abuse Severus had suffered at the hand of her cubs, she was mortified that she had never been more proactive, and had ensured that Sirius was truly repentant of his own malicious treatment, her abatement still ringing in his ears at the three and a half hour ear bashing she had administered, speaking of heroism in the face of abject terror, or honour, pride and above all Severus's unwavering loyalty that had kept Sirius's own godson alive in ways he could never have accomplished. This new outlook on Severus's character had left in its wake a clearer path for Sirius to follow, one of redemption and repentance, but Severus had never been one to easily and quickly forgive. Minerva hoped he would warm eventually, but understood the importance of time in this matter.

Minerva awaited the smoky Patronus of the Minister of Magic, whom had also been invited to her wee gathering, and when it arrived with a small otter and large stag in toe, she was delighted that her ex-students would also be coming along for a quick beverage and chat. Hermione seemed to have never aged, her skin looked radiant against the candle light and the flickering embers of the green fire, and Harry had grown too much, in Minerva's opinion. He looked battle-scarred and war worn, but still seemed to exude a peaceful and calm aura, his decision to enter the Aurory appeared to fit him perfectly, as he had pinned to his chest the official crest of Head Auror. Minerva began to suspect ulterior motives when she witnessed the dark circles around the eyes of all three, stepping politely through the floo and dusting themselves off before offering hugs and kisses to those gathered. Minerva and the castle knew that more was to come, and had a feeling it had something to do with the mystical happenings yet to be explained at the Order of Merlin ceremony only a month beforehand. Something was amiss, and Minerva was fully intent of discovering what it meant. She waited patiently in her chair, leaving the large, ostentatious chair of the Headmistress deliberately empty. When all were seated, with only said chair and a floating Severus remaining, she pointed a steely glance to him, signalling to the chair and urging him to take the proffered seat. Gingerly, he slowly sat in his old chair, and instantly felt the surge of pleasure from the castle. Scowling even deeper, he adjusted himself, shaking off the feeling blooming in his chest of belonging, and even threw a filthy look at a smug looking Minerva, who had observed the scene was definitely had the 'cat that got the cream' smirk he detested. The woman had always been able to convey, in the subtlest of ways, that she 'told you so'.

"Well, now we are all gathered, I must ask what has caused you all to look so on edge? I hope it isn't your presence at the castle?" Minerva scanned the party, and the castle held its breath. There had been so much work done since the war, so many changes, that there was clearly the hope that the old scars of the past would heal. As Kingsley stood, preparing himself for the speech he had prepared in advance of this gathering, all eyes fell to him and he braced himself.

"Minerva, as you may have already heard, there had been a disturbing turn of events, and we are currently working day and night to ensure we can get to the bottom of what is happening. So far, we have one key witness, who isn't saying a word, but we hope with more...persuading...she may divulge further the plans that are being put into motion as we speak. We don't know the motivation or whom is behind this, but we discovered at the Order of Merlin ceremony that the Fae are involved in some form of coup…"

Minerva gasped at this, and the castle hummed in concern. The Fae folk had been the tales of her youth, long fallen into the annals of history and the stuff of legends and myths. Minerva's old soul felt the pull from her childhood, the memories of her first discovering her magic, her first love, and she shuddered. Perhaps she had a story to tell of her own on this night.

"Hermione has been researching the Fae, and has discovered that, during the course of the Second Wizarding War, many Fae in America were also at war amongst themselves. The source seems to be a breach in ancient Fae law, and revolves around a particular individual, believed to be part Fae, who caused quite a stir, to say the least. I leave Hermione to discuss her findings in more depth at another time, however tonight I agreed to attend this party, as I feel it will affect all magical creatures should the war in the Americas spread to Europe which, at least I believe from the work myself and Harry have been privy to, is imminent."

Kingsley reseated himself and let out a breath he did not know he had been holding. A Fae War would be devastating, he knew this, and would ravage an already recovering country, let alone the rest of the continent still repairing itself after the pandemic that was Lord Voldemort and his followers. Many had now been caught, or had fled to the continent and been caught there when trying to rally once again together, so that threat, at least, appeared to have died away. Some members of the Pureblood society that remained were pledged loyalty, or at least fealty, to the Ministry, and he in particular was, before any interruptions, enjoying a peaceful and _exciting_ relationship with Narcissa Malfoy, now being recognised as Narcissa Black. His thoughts of his paramore soured as his anxiety of her whereabouts crept into his conscious, and he was thankful then that Draco, sensing something strange in the change of the Minister, shot him a sympathetic look filled with camaraderie, determination and, in the depths of his silver eyes, revenge.

It was during this pause Draco spoke, recounting the happenings at the Ministry and his mother's not being able to be found once the young Fae had been apprehended and sent to the Ministry cells for 'intense interrogations'...a lot of which, Draco added, hopefully involved iron. Minerva looked at Draco then for the first time and saw the man he had become, and felt a sense of pride that, although he was still very much Lucius's son and had the spite and malice synonymous with a Malfoy, he had adopted a lot of Weasley's ability to be diplomatic and a tactician. He recounted his own search for his mother, the hours of contacting Europe, America, and the remaining estates in England, to no avail. Molly was constantly on look out for any correspondence from her dear friend, and had worried herself into a frenzy.

Hermione, who had been sat by the roaring fire, poised and unmoving as a statue, seemed to absorb the warmth and be completely oblivious to the storytelling taking place. As she watched the large flames dance and engulf the smaller crackles. She allowed her mind to glide slowly back in her history, and became entranced as the memories of carnal trysts before a roaring flame such as this had been all she had craved, now all she longed for. She felt the cool breeze against her skin and closed her eyes, as the interplay of fire and ice washed over her, reminding her of strong arms and long, flowing golden hair. She sighed inaudibly, and turned as if on queue to enter the conversation once Draco had shared the information he had. With a glance to Harry for fraternal support, she began to discuss her own research. She described the Fae War, the return of many to the land of the Fae, the person of interest with whom she had sent a missive requesting her express assistance in the growing Fae tension in Europe, and the correspondence she had received updating her on when she would finally get to meet the woman who had been the centrefold of her research. Hermione left out conveniently where she had received a bulk of her information, how she had attained this from 'a reliable source' was all she was willing to divulge, and also she decided to remove the information regarding who she had come to trust as 'reliable'. That would be too much information for a night already heavily swamped in new drama. She couldn't deal with additionally supplying the room at large with the knowledge of her being imprinted upon by a vampire. And she most certainly was not going to admit to the audience that were gathered that she had accepted this imprinting. No. She would leave that for another day...perhaps never. She was no longer the trusting young girl she had once been within these walls, and her perception on privacy had become sacred to her once she had been dubbed a 'celebrity'. She would tell Minerva in her own time. For now, her goal was to prepare those present for the arrival of Sookie Stackhouse, and hopefully come up with a solid plan, for a war was coming, and the horizon was looking bleak if this Sookie could not assist them, as everyone was growing to secretly hope for.

_oOo_

Lafayette heard a loud banging coming from the direction of the trailer door and cussed loudly and unashamedly. Whatever asshole was disturbing him when he was trying to cope with whatever fresh hell was taking place in his life, as well as work out what clothes he needed to take on this new mission, was going to receive more than just the sharp edge of his tongue. He picked up his shotgun and held it loosely as he opened the door to his visitor, instantly rolling his eyes and putting the gun back down upon seeing the large, imposing figure gracing his doorstep.

"You better come in before someone sees you, don't want to be starting tales round these parts of how you's coming to visit little old me, do we?"

He moved aside to allow the man in his doorway entrance, and made sure no one was around to be making up new gossip before closing and bolting his trailer door. Maybe his day was going to brighten up, if only for an hour or two, and he could forget all the hassle he was currently working on. He silently nodded towards the kettle, received a firm head shake, and then motioned to the bottle of vodka from last night still on the kitchen table. The man nodded, but didn't say a word until Lafayette had poured two large shots and placed one in front of him, which disappeared and was refilled in an instant.

"I heard through the grapevine you were goin' on a trip, and you weren't even gonna say goodbye?" The man's deep rumbling voice seemed to ricochet around the trailer, and the hint of sadness beneath the jovial facade was certainly not lost on Lafayette. He didn't want to hurt this guy, in fact he didn't even know the guy would care if he came or went. He offered the man a warm smile and put his hand on the rippling muscular arm, noting how much hotter it was compared to the usual warmth that tended to emanate from him. He felt the hairs on the arm stand to his touch, something that had become a recent development in their...meetings...that Lafayette preferred to ignore. He knew how hard this man's life was, even though to some it sounded idyllic. He was master of his own fate and had a beautiful partner, but he was not a happy man. He didn't want to have the power, and Lafayette understood completely. Doing something he felt would be a massive mistake, Lafayette deliberately took Alcide by the hand and led him over to the more secluded area reserved for Lafayette's bed, pulling him in for a heated kiss as he allowed Alcide to take control of him, like he knew he liked it best. In truth, Lafayette loved the feeling of being lost, and a part of something else other than his own life.

Being with Alcide in this way had been a revelation to Lafayette. One night and one or two...or twenty...drinks later and they had tumbled into bed. The wolf had ensnared his prey and Lafayette was loathe to deny he wasn't hotter than a July day, and like hell was Lafayette going to be so cruel as to turn someone away who was struggling, just like he was, to move forward and start anew. Too much had happened. Too many lives changed, or lost, and too much had fallen among everyone who had lived in or worked in Bon Temps. They felt the connection, the wounds they both held deep within themselves were being licked clean, and neither wanted to truly acknowledge the connection. Lafayette knew from the way Alcide was breathing, his possessive strength pining him squarely to the mattress as his wicked tongue and teeth made busy work of the exposed skin of his neck, nipping with sharpened teeth. Lafayette moaned deep in his throat as he felt the cold trickle of blood run from the new bite, and he tilted his hips to evidence his growing appreciation of Alcide's dominant ministrations. Lafayette dug his nails sharply into Alcide's back, ripping at the shirt that hung between them and throwing the ravaged material into the ether, his head already swimming with the sensations. He forgot himself, he forgot where he was, he forgot all that had been. Lost in the sensation, he closed his eyes and moaned harder as Alcide slowly descended, ripping Lafayette's vest and reaching the belt buckle with a wolfish grin.

It felt like an eternity passed in a few seconds when Lafayette felt himself finally exposed to the elements. He was leaking profusely, with Alcide's eager mouth ready to lap up every glistening drop. Without caring who was in control anymore, just acting upon the overwhelming urge for skin on skin, Lafayette moved with the speed of a cat and flipped Alcide so he was sitting on his chest, his cock mere inches from that hot and hungry mouth. Lafayette moved down in one fluid movement, and spread Alcide's legs wider once he had removed the offending articles of clothing impeding his favourite plaything. It was his turn to smile wolfishly up at the sighing, sweating and stunning Alcide, lowering his mouth to slowly take the large, hard and glorious member deep into his throat, flexing to allow for maximum loved the feel of Alcide's cock, for some reason it released the feral nature in Lafayette and he felt, for however brief their time together would be, the closest to alive as he had in a very long time. Lafayette was shocked as he realised he would miss this. He would always have a longing to return to was in his moment of faltering that Alcide pulled slightly back to give him some space, thank god he hadn't noticed anything. Lafayette returned to his monumental task with gusto, twirling his tongue and flexing his cheeks until Alcide's panting increased, deep growls bursting from his lips as he threw his head back in heated ecstasy. Lafayette took his cue and increased his speed as Alcide began to pound the back of his throat with need. As he came, Alcide looked straight into Lafayette's eyes and growled, his eyes flashing a strong and vibrant golden.

Through his panting, Lafayette heard the direct words leave Alcide with an air of no argument, the Alpha was speaking.

"I'm coming with you."

The words were final and Lafayette's heart swelled in his chest, but quickly he shook his head and pushed the feelings aside. He could not drag Alcide into his drama, and he refused to let Alcide muscle his way into them either.

"Baby you got a life to lead here, a pack to run, you can't and I won't let you come with."

Alcide sat up and looked over Lafayette, was looking away from him, and had slid to the edge of the mattress so he could put his face in his hands. Alcide moved to sit beside him, rubbing his shoulder.

"I'm not letting you go through all this alone, none of us deserve to be alone anymore. Look at me!"

Lafayette's eyes snapped to Alcide's face and he saw the despair, the loss, and even the fear mirrored in every inch of his face. Lafayette wanted to concede and let Alcide take the reins, but he knew in his heart he just couldn't deal with all this with the added complication of this relationship. It broke him to admit it, but he _needed_ to do this alone. He jerked away from Alcide's touch as if it burned his skin, and hardened his shoulders. Standing and pulling a sarong around his waist, he did the hardest thing he had ever had to do since losing Jesus to the afterlife.

"Alcide. I said no. Don't be coming up in my house thinking you can just Alpha your way round my life. Not today. Now I'm gonna give you 5 minutes to pick up your shit and leave. After that I'm gonna get the shotgun and throw yo'ass out. Now GET!"

Alcide made no move to go, however he too was bristling with anger. He grabbed his effects and stalked, still nude, towards the door of the trailer, dragging Lafayette's blazing gaze follow him. He turned to him then, and snarled,

"You've always been a heartless bitch, you know that?"

"And yet here yo' dumb ass is, and still in my muthafucking trailer!"

Lafayette sprang to his feet and crossed to the door quickly, grabbing the idle gun and pointing it.

"I said GET OUT MY DAMN YARD!"

For a moment their eyes locked once again, and both saw each other's pain, but it was not enough. Alcide opened the door and slammed it in his wake, the shriek of his tyres signalling his retreat.

It was later that night, when the sounds of the wild howled and clicked outside, and Lafayette had rolled a joint, that he let himself open up to the feelings. There, in that moment, Lafayette allowed himself to shed a few angry, silent, and relieved tears.


	10. Live and Let Live

**Chapter 10 - Live and Let Live**

 _Some people long for a life that is simple and planned_

 _Tied with a ribbon_

 _Some people won't sail the sea 'cause they're safer on land_

 _To follow what's written_

 _But I'd follow you to the great unknown_

 _Off to a world we call our own_

 _The Greatest Showman (Pasek/Paul) - Tightrope_

On a sandy beach that seemed to stretch on into the unknown, a young boy ran giggling with delight through the long grass that led to the seashore. The boy was being chased by a woman with wild dark hair, streaks of silver turning to a golden hue in the mid-afternoon sun, her years hidden behind the ravishing smile that crossed her lips as she grabbed the ecstatic child and swung him in mid-air. The joy radiating from both was making the world around seem warmer, a more idyllic place to live. The boy's hair changed wildly from the same colour of his grandmother to a vibrant neon pink, and then to a more muted brown, and followed this pattern as he was tickled and raspberried to his utter delight.

Andromeda held the boy close to her and sighed as he settled in to watch the sunset, their nightly tradition since he had been a babe. She ruffled his wild hair and kissed his head as she gently rocked him, this being the sure fire way of guaranteeing him sleeping through the night. She thought over the poor luck of someone so young, how she was not the woman who truly should be sitting here. She missed being able to talk the darkness that always flowed in a Black out with her wonderful husband. Ted had been gone for some time now, and not a passing day went by without her heart calling to him, reassuring him that she would join him when she was ready. Sometimes, in the darkest moments, she heard him with her, speaking to her and soothing her, letting her know she had a long way to go and he would always love her, and that she needed to move on, they would see each other again soon enough.

Teddy wiggled and clutched a lock of his grandmother's hair as the sun slowly sank and turned a brilliant orange. To match, he made his hair turn a midnight blue, giggling as he felt his grandmother ruffle and kiss his hair. He wished his mummy and daddy could be here, but he knew deep down they were always there for him. Grandmother had showed him the moving pictures, and told him all the stories about his hero daddy who was a werewolf, and his amazing mummy who was a polymorph, like him. How they had saved the world, and how they had loved each other with all their hearts. Teddy had a special blanket Grandmother had made him, and although it now was a bit small from when he was a baby, he kept with him every night. Grandmother said that the love of his parents were woven into every single stitch of that blanket, and so he held it as sacred.

Andromeda started to feel the lethargy of a long day, tiredness creeping in as the evening chill fell on her, and she realised Teddy had fallen sound asleep, just as expected. It was then she felt a secondary shiver, and her first instinct was the hold her wand tightly as she positioned Teddy comfortably over her shoulder. She had heard an unfamiliar noise, a sniff that had almost been inaudible if not for the peaceful rhythm of the sea at night being the only other sound for the past hour. She lifted herself slowly and turned towards the sound, instantly dropping wand and, almost, dropping her charge in the shock. The sniff had been part of clearly a collection of sobs of the most agonising nature. She looked to the source and her heart, that had been loosely patched together with the unconditional love she had for her grandson, felt a sharp tug as more shards were wrought together with a new and powerful cord. She let out a single, loud sob before picking up her wand and putting it away. It was not needed now.

For a moment, two figures, one holding a sleeping toddler in their arms, the other holding theirs open with a look that was somewhere between fearful and jubilant. Within the blink of an eye, with the crescent moon beaming brightly now, turning the beaches gold into a palid silver that glistened against the now calm sea, the two figures inched closer, before becoming merged in a warm embrace. Andromeda's sudden movement roused the sleeping Teddy, who now found himself somewhat crushed between two adults. He yelped, and instantly they parted, tears glistening on their cheeks. Teddy reached up and wiped a tear from his Grandmother's face. He looked perplexed, not understanding why she was crying and smiling at the same time. Suddenly, he heard a voice that had been continually talking alongside his Grandmother, and he followed the voice to the man who stood in front of him. He looked so familiar, and he even smelled like his blanket. Sometimes, in his dreams, Teddy had played with his daddy, they had gone for picnics and had played football in the garden, or he had been reading him a bedtime story before tucking him in and wishing him goodnight with a kiss on the forehead. Teddy knew this man before him, he knew in his very soul, and that comprehension within a small child is resolute. It did not waiver.

From within the embrace of his Grandmother, there came a sound so riveting that Remus could hardly breath. He tilted his head back, the beast within him rising to the surface in a rush of love and pride. Home. His pack. He had found them again and they had accepted him. He was where he needed to be, and he thanked every deity he could summon, and thanks his darling Dora, for giving him such a golden opportunity. He let his emotions flow freely, never fearing judgement. As his son continued to make the sound that had alerted him, both man and beast felt it rude not to join him.

That night, many who lived close to the shore could have sworn, and did swear when bumping into each other whilst gardening, or whilst wandering around Tesco, or during the local school fete, that they had heard the most eerie of sounds coming from the darkened shoreline. Many said it must have been a freak gust of wind, and brushed it off, moving on to their usual daily tasks. Some of the busy hamlet's bees, however, would swear that they had heard the sound of not one, but two wolves howling into the chillingly iridescent nights sky, a single cloud skimming over a waxing moon.

_o0o_

There was a hissing, a low, continuous release of air into the night's quiet. No one was there to here it. The noise resembled a thousand snakes writhing over a pit of microphones. It was an unearthly noise, with the effect of nails scraping slowly down a chalkboard. The forest around it had stilled in wake of the alien entity. What was left of the larger inhabitants had crept towards the sound, and found nothing more than a ring upon the ground, a strange glow of deepest crimson emanating from the ground, casting eerie shadows across the mushrooms that had sprouted to solidify the ring. The earth around the ring seemed to shimmer, as if it were coated in gemstones, and the air crackled with the power being ripped from it's very heart. Faster than the eye can comprehend, the ring burst into violent violet flames, purging the oppressiveness in the air and searing a path towards the forest canopy, ethereal tendrils licking out to taste the fresh air.

After years of searching, finally, they had found an entrance. A rip back into the mortal world, powered by an unknown, powerful and dark magic. It had been culminating for years, almost biding its time, cultivating the land around it and forming the faerie ring upon the very earth that had taken it hostage. What a kind and considerate host for it to rise once more. For those keen to take hold of the power and possess it, the darkness of the magic swelled and provided the means, all it need do is await it's final summons. Through the desperation, despair, hatred, bigotry and longing of those who sought it out it fed, leeching any source of light it could from the already tainted souls.

From the blazing body of flames, figures began to emerge, ranging from the terrifying and monstrous to the arousing and alluring, the sensual, seductive, and some certainly insane. They stood in the clearing, not a sound from the forest. Their footfalls were silent, and they seemed to blend and meld to the landscape perfectly. As the final figure slipped through the portal, the flames extinguished, leaving a thin trail of smoke into the nights sky. The group now looked beyond the clearing, through the dense wood, draining the power from the surroundings, using and abusing the earth. It came upon the turrets of a formidable castle, lights flickering to to match those of the stars in the heavens.

In that moment, that which the Forbidden Forest had tried with all it's might to keep caged had been unleashed. For the first time in so many years, the entire forest shuddered, sending a thunderous message to it's companion, the castle. A cold shiver ran up the spine of Severus Snape, who tossed and turned in a broken sleep, as he did most nights. For, upon receiving the missive, the castle had, for an instant, quaked in fear.


	11. Don't Try To Hide It

**Chapter 11 - Don't Try To Hide It**

 _I know you think you're in a bottomless pit, hell_

 _I'll be at the bottom, waiting with my shivers and shakes_

 _The ground's not rushing up to meet you, just yet, oh!_

 _Earth is but a garden, forget about your guarded aches_

 _Everything, Everything - Don't Try_

Pam had been drumming her perfectly manicured fingernails against the cold, marble kitchen counter in a steady rhythm since waking that evening and locating the percolating coffee pot, trying to piece together what her life was turning into. She felt like she was either walking dead, or she was thrown into so much Northman drama she could barely stop to change her shoes. Whatever had happened in the past, there seemed to be something so much worse raising its ugly head over the horizon of the future, and this new found over-zealousness of her maker was, quite frankly, starting to make her sick. She thought back to when she had rescued him in Europe, so many years ago. The years they had spent on the run to get back to the US without having their pieces "magically" disappear. It's not that she had a problem with witches and wizards, the real kind anyway, most of them hadn't tried to decompose her with their mumbo-jumbo. But she still didn't like the secretive way they went about their daily lives, their little community having no touch whatsoever with the other side. At least vampires had made the effort prior to opening themselves up to the world and would learn about the changes in cultures, creeds, democracies, totalitarian dictatorships, the usual human issues that arose with the passing of time. Hell, wizards stuck out like a sore thumb in the UK, wandering around in their dress robes and thinking it was "muggles", as they put it, who had the problem. There was nothing wrong with being draped in Tiffany and Coco, or pulling on a pair of jeans and a jumper rather than several layers of cloth. To Pam, they were yet another example of breathers who were inept at blending in, always having to stand out even when trying to fade into the crowd.

Another problem Pam had, although she would never vocalise having problems, was the wizarding worlds utter arrogance, and the way that it seeped into the mindset of other, more magically adept, creatures, and found itself superior. Of course, times were changing, and Pam had been a witness to this once Eric was able to return to Europe to receive the belated Freya's effects, post the removal of the snake faced despot who had tried so many years ago to either recruit or remove Eric from the playing field. It had been Eric who had mounted the rebellion against him with the vampires at the helm, never afraid of getting a few cuts and bruises in the battle. Typical Viking. Pam and Eric had travelled to Scotland with the vampires who had, ironically, aligned themselves with "the Light", and had fought in the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts School, some big wig private academy. Pam had almost laughed when news from the castle claimed that a boy, barely a man, and his ragtag band of friends had finally killed the one the called "The Dark Lord". If not for the pain in her arm from the deep gash left by one of those mangy werewolves they had fighting against them, she would have rolled on the floor with laughter, dignity be damned. Those disgusting creatures had made her ruin a perfectly good pair of Prada's, she was NOT impressed.

It wasn't the battle that had been the most interesting for Pam, however, but the aftermath. The political drama and intrigue that followed the death of...whatever his name was...and the stardom of the one known as Harry Potter had spread. One wily witch had snuck into the world of the Non-Maj and write a book series that had been made into a movie. Pam sighed as she remembered watching the first film by accident when visiting Sookie, during their weekly catch ups. With Eric away at that time, Pam found comfort in dropping in on the happy little Bon Temps family she had fashioned. They had giggled as the young pup, Hunter, had watched with wide eyes as magic flew and absorbed him, pulling him into the fantasy world. Pam hadn't had the opportunity to watch any more, what with the whole "save the Eric" mission that had brought her to this point. Sitting in her kitchen. Drumming her fingers on the cold, marble counter, waiting for Eric to rise so preparations could be finalised before he forced himself to up sticks and move again to Europe.

_o0o_

 _The Council of Magical Beings - First Session Post-SWW_

The gathering had been requested following Tom Riddle's death as a matter of urgency, the magical community being the spearhead of it's calling. The wish for equality amongst all magical factions, to save the world from another puritanical maniac. All races and species were present, with two representatives, one male one female, speaking on the communities behalf. It was an unusual sight for many who had gathered, being in the same room with friend and foe, with vampires sitting beside werewolves, centaurs beside satyrs, and three wizards sitting in full view, centre stage, ready to discuss how, as one, they could all move forwards.

With a swish of her wand, Hermione politely amplified her voice and lightly coughed for attention. She felt the room quieten, each delegate comfortably sitting in silence awaiting what was to follow. Some were shooting venomous looks at one another, some were looking somewhat like prey. It was one particular set of eyes that truly caught Hermione's attention, their amber intensity flecked with gold and black strands that yelled _danger!_ She swallowed, hard, and tried to recollect the exact mechanism involved when trying to breathe. Harry, who was looking at her intently awaiting her segment of the pre-crafted speech, noted her sudden captivation and chuckled to himself. She had only ever looked at two other people in such a way and, as she was in all ways but blood, he of course knew whom both were aimed at. The first time had been when she had caught sight of Remus coming back from the Forbidden Forest after his transformation. She had twittered on about Colin Firth, Mr Darcy and how she had wished it had been raining for so long the mere words in his memories made Harry shudder. He could never look Remus in the eye after one of his transformations again. The second had been, much to Harry's chagrin, when Professor Snape had announced himself at Grimmauld Place after the Second Wizarding War, moments after Sirius had barked his way back home. Harry smiled and let out a cough of his own, making Hermione's jaw snap back into place like a bear trap. Hermione winced, making Harry chuckle darkly, she was still sore from injuries during the battle. It had not been long since that they had called this meeting, to acknowledge the brave and the fallen from everyone who had helped him win the war. He called the Ministry to heal with the love of the nation, something that still didn't necessarily sit well with him but, with a budding friend like Draco, who seemed to have benefited in a mere few days from the love and security of The Burrow, and had stopped being, as Ron put it "such a knobhead all the time".

The meeting flowed seamlessly, with each representative given a voice and a thanks personally from Harry, with a promise from the Interim Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt that new laws and accords would be drafted immediately to accommodate the cultures, treaties and beliefs of all. For the first time in however many millennia, every magical entity was at peace, and for the length of Harry Potter's legacy, a new age would unfurl. The only two things that niggled in his mind were the attention spans of the true Fae, who seemed highly distracted and the only ones who questioned this peaceful tenure, making it clear that it was not of enough benefit for them to really hold attention. Harry sneered, looking at them through his peripheral vision. There would always be someone to watch out for, there would never be true peace. But at least it would be enough for now.

His second concern was the non-verbal interaction that had captivated his sister's attention, and the broad, blond, dark and dashing vampire representative and his ice queen companion. Hermione could barely pull her attention away from what was clearly a mutual fascination, and Harry caught the eye of the ice queen Barbie on more than one occasion, and this was terrifying as he could swear both of them seemed hungry. He took over from that point, surprising himself with how easy this was compared to what he had to face in his life thus far. He gained and earned the respect of so many new allies, and had finally opened himself up to the questions of the public. Many were obvious, but some were more based on his personal health and well being, and this warmed his heart immensely. With a happy sigh as the meeting adjourned, he watched new alliances form in the best ways. He also watched as a certain vampire, one Eric Northman elder known as "The Viking" introduced himself and his bored companion with a zeal he had never witnessed before. The interaction was borderline feral, the looks and small twitches and actions elicited something any one who did not know Hermione as well as Harry did would have overlooked it as a friendly conversation. Harry looked away, feeling as if he was invading on an intimate moment between two souls, sharing a shoulder shrug and slight nod with The Snow Queen, who on closer inspection was dressed like a Stepford Wife which was a very odd visual combination. He supposed she wasn't so bad, even if her entire look still managed to scream _deadly_.

Harry felt the earth shift beneath them at the rugged departure of the Fae, the Forbidden Forest rumbling in disgruntlement at the intrusion. It was certainly unforeseen, it was almost violent, and Harry sighed. Here we go again...


	12. Vesti La Giubba

**Chapter 12 - Vesti La Giubba**

 _Vesti la giubba e la faccia infarina._

 _(Put on your costume, powder your face.)_

 _La gente paga, e rider vuole qua._

 _(the people pay, and they want to laugh.)_

 _E se Arlecchin t'invola Colombina,_

 _(And if Harlequin steals your Columbina,)_

 _ridi, Pagliaccio, e ognun applaudirà!_

 _(laugh, clown, and everyone will applaud!)_

 _Leoncavallos (Pagliacci) - Vesti La Giubba_

The flight seemed to drag on for so long that Lafayette felt like dropping to his knees and kissing the tarmac when they finally touched down in London. He had been warned about English weather, but he definitely felt under prepared as he donned his fur coat, realising half of his outfits were going to need a revamp if he was going to survive this arctic freeze. The grass around the airfield was glistening in the sultry moonlight, the luminescence of the large airport making the frost appear to dance to the moon's celestial rhythm. He watched as all the passengers disembarked, awaiting his companions who had inconveniently been seated miles away from him, not that he was complaining as he simply threw on his eye mask and some headphones and slept for as long a she possibly could before cracking open an eye over Dublin. Of course, being so high he saw only blurred greens and browns, but the thought of the closeness to Scotland made him tingle with anticipation.

Sookie and Sam, who had been more practical in their attire, had chosen to ensure they were already swathed in wool and warmth before disembarking, and stretched out their limbs as they all stood, together with Lafayette, at the conveyor belt, awaiting their luggage. The vampires had travelled ahead of them to throw off any nefarious persons who may have followed the coffins, ever vigilant of their enemies. Upon collecting their luggage, the jet lagged friends exited the small jet centre into the cold night, spying a large, sleek Mercedes awaiting their transit to their lodgings. Sam bristled as he noted the driver's board read 'Stackhouse', but chose to simply sigh, this was going to be a long trip.

Eric and Pam had arranged to stay in the premier vampire hotel in Edinburgh as a lay by before making tracks towards the Highlands, however Sam, Sookie and Lafayette felt that being in the proximity of a hotel full of vampires brought back too many memories of a past they had all wanted to leave behind. To nullify their concerns, Pam had organised for them to stay in a "more appropriate" hotel, which so happened to be called "The Witchery". As the car pulled up in the shadow of the Gothic and foreboding hotel, all three looked at the sign and burst into laughter at the irony. The looming Gothic splendour of Edinburgh castle loomed over them, it's dark spires and ancient stones humming with magic that Lafayette had never encountered before. It was as old as the earth itself, and called to him in a language he could not understand, but somehow made him feel at peace in a way he couldn't even remember feeling.

Upon being arranged in their respective rooms, Lafayette took the opportunity to check out the lay of the land. The large suite was draped in sumptuous reds and mahogany's, with large windows opening up to the beautiful city. Lafayette was fascinated, only ever seeing the American Gothic resurgence in the South, and was drawn to the cobbled streets heaving with wanted to immerse himself in this new experience, but knew his time was short. He reviewed his options, turned on Grindr, and set to work before they would all be forced to move on.

Sam and Sookie sheepishly entered their oversized, tartan cad suite, feeling overwhelmed by the decadence. For the last five years they had lived a comfortable but very much American lifestyle, and the introduction of such ancient marvels was something of a culture shock. For Sam, it was just another example of how vampires like to show off their money but putting them up in something bigger than his older trailer and Sookie's parlour combined. For Sookie, however, there was something much more mystical calling to her. It had begun as a tiny whisper as the plane finally flew into Scottish air space, a whisper that had grown upon touch down, and continued to do so as they drove through a city that seemed to be blended in time, somewhere between the ancient and the modern. The sweeping mountainside and the view of Arthur's seat from their window seemed to wash a cooling balm over Sookie's agitated soul, and for an inexplicable reason, Sookie felt that she had returned to a place that her soul may once have called home. She blamed it on the Fae within her, knowing the origins to be more Celtic than Creole, but it did not help to quiet her spinning thoughts. She knew herself, she knew her past and her home, she knew she was being swayed by something she only relatively recently had any idea was part of her. Being the all American sweetheart in high school, with an added disadvantaged as she had thought of it then, she had never felt any call from the homeland of her people. But now here she was, and the land itself was calling to her.

Sam watched his beloved as she leaned on the windowsill, breathing in deeply and closing her eyes whilst slightly shaking. He suspected she was feeling conflicted, as this was new territory for all of them, so he simply stalked towards her and drew her back against his chest, kissing her hair and wrapping his arms around her like an anchor keeping her from flying away from him. He could feel the faery magic reverberating from her very core, and knew the Fae were calling, but he could not let her go, he would not let them take her from him after all this time. Sam glanced at the clock, 11pm, soon it would be the witching hour, followed by the morning; he just needed to keep her close until then, bide their time, keep her anchored to stop her flight, and he knew just how to distract her. He nuzzled her neck and her the hum vibrate deep in her throat, her skin tingling against his as her magic refocused on the tangible, the physical presence of love. Sookie turned into his embrace and captured his mouth in a passionate kiss, exploring Sam's mouth with her tongue as her hands explored everything else. When had he stripped? Had she been standing at the window for so long?

Sam lifted Sookie mid kiss and carried her over to the queen sized four poster bed, laying her amongst the stack of pillows as delicately as a shimmering crystal made of lightning sand. Her skin was radiating an ethereal glow, and Sam could not help but marvel at the beauty before him, lust darkening her warm eyes to a smouldering heat that drew him in and hitched his breathing. He covered her with his body, his lips lightly brushing feathery kisses down her throat. He seamlessly pulled her clothing over her head and laid siege to his exposed skin, kissing, licking and nipping his way to her navel, his hot breath raising more tantalising goosebumps to prickle the creamy softness. Removing her lower invading clothing, he nestled between her thighs, intoxicated by the heady musk of her sex as he lowered his head to gently tease the slickened lips and folds. Sookie gasped, her hand grasping Sam's head in an attempt to guide and regulate that was a fruitless exercise, he knew what he was doing, but she felt she needed to contribute somehow, and had no other power to do anything other than run her fingers across his scalp and moan deeply with the twisting sensation building in her, pushing her closer to the brink as she felt his tongue explore her chasm. Fingers appeared, and Sookie let out a scream of pleasure as the found her sweetest spot, with Sam's strong tongue circling and swirling around her clit, sometimes drawing it into his mouth and lightly running his teeth over the sensitive bundle of nerves. As his ministrations increased, Sookie felt herself tumbling over the edge, her entire body absorbed with the warmth and explosive sensation of his love. As she came down from the climactic high, she felt him position himself against her entrance and, in one fluid movement, enter her to the hilt, growling low as her tight wetness invited him in with zeal. For the first time since their love making had began, Sookie looked into Sam's eyes as he hovered above her, awaiting her adjustments. He was staring at her with a hunger and lust that was all encompassing, totally focused on her. He seemed awestruck, so in attempt to wake him from his clear daze she wrapped her legs around his waist and squeezed her thighs, smiling at him and nodding to signal his return to the mission at hand. Sam shook his head and closed his eyes, kissing her once more as he slowly began to move inside her. Pulling himself to the very tip, he drove hard and slow into her molten core, repeating the motion as the weight of his ardour pressed upon him. Sookie urged him to speed up, and he of course obliged, feeling his growing climax on the horizon.

As if she knew he was holding back, Sookie tightened her grip on him and lent up slightly to reach his ear. Nipping the lobe, she huskily whispered her love for him, and how much she wanted him, which seemed to light a fire under Sam, who was now ploughing into Sookie as if he were trying to break her apart. Reaching his own orgasm he shouted her name, and sank spent onto the soft sheets beside her. She smiled and cupped his face, drawing him into a much softer and more innocent kiss, which he tried to return with little success. Looking at the clock, it was 2am, and they had to be up in the morning for the journey to Hogwarts. She shook her head at the thought of how preposterous that even sounded, and let out a small chuckle as she nestled into Sam's outstretched arms, breathing in his manly scent and wrapping her arms and legs around him, lulling them both into a glorious and well deserved sleep.

_o0o_

As you know, magic is not necessarily a corporeal construct, however that did not make it any less sentient. Outside the window of the suite, the ancient magic swirled and careened, it had sensed one of it's children returning home and had been trying to call out to it, like a mother bird calling it's chicks, but had been denied. Prowling around the hotel like a tiger, the magic knew it would be appeased, it needed to bide it's time. There had been a breach, a break, something was wrong. It knew that whatever was here, it would help to fix what was broken. The magic yearned to be whole once more, but it also needed to be patient. It knew of the darkness that was to come, and for the first time in so many millennia it had felt fear. Something was coming, leeching off the damage done by the world around it, bleeding the earth of it's very essence, and that amount of power was enough to trap and manipulate, to harm and destroy, and the magic did not want to ever be beholden to it. Feeling reassurance at the return of an old soul, the magic passed the message along to it's kin. Severus Snape, who had been in the middle of an intense chess match with Sirius Black, suddenly shuddered and felt the need to vomit, sprinting across his chamber to the bathroom, reaching it just in time to slam the door behind him and fall to his knees before the porcelain.

"I mean I know that was a really good move, but Severus was it worth you chucking up some perfectly good firewhiskey?" Sirius called after him jovially. He had found that being friendly with Severus wasn't as difficult in adulthood as it was when he was a teenager. He had fully admitted to being, as he had artfully put it, a complete bell-end to Severus when they had been growing up, and he felt truly ashamed of himself and his actions, especially after speaking with Lupin in limbo and realising how much he had not only put Severus in danger, but the cost on Lupin's life he may have brought about through his reckless and hurtful behaviour. Severus was still prickly towards him, however Sirius was a determined sort and was not going to let a few acidic barbs stand in the way of him making a true and concerted effort.

Sirius knew that Severus had been on edge about returning to Hogwarts, and was very much aware of his views on sharing a role with Sirius, whether he was "Potion Master" or not. However, they actually seemed to maintain a positive professional rapport that was bleeding into their personal lives, and this was being observed by both staff and the student body whose attendance and participation had improved greatly with the dynamic in the classroom. Severus was still the bat of the dungeons, his cutting critiques still bringing his students to tears, and in the case of one student to the point of wetting themselves in fear of his wrath. Sirius was the counterweight, providing laughter and good nature to the stoic style previously dominating the classroom, and this definitely was reflecting in the students grades. Although they were clearly petrified of screwing up, they were more attentive and easier to deal with. In particular, Severus had found that those students who were particularly...hormonal...would gravitate away from him and towards Sirius. Even some of his snakes had taken solace in speaking with Sirius, and this was resulting in a wonderful blending of houses in his classes that was now spreading across the castle.

Severus wretched and pulled Sirius from his ruminations, however a second later he heard the water running and splashing, and Severus emerged from the bathroom, looking even more gaunt and frail than he usually did.

"What was that all about, you alright mate?"

Sirius looked at Severus with something that threw Severus completely, genuine concern. Severus chuckled and nodded, looking back to the game before clearing his throat.

"The castle had something to tell me, I'm still not used to being back here and picking up on these things I suppose…"

He trailed off, moving a pawn into play and then leaning back in his chair, crossing his legs and templing his fingertips in a clear challenge. Sirius knew this was all he was going to get, so he huffed his hair from his eyes and returned to the game, contemplating speaking with Minerva as soon as he had a spare moment, even if Severus didn't like his business being gossiped over.

"I assure you, Black, if it was something I needed to discuss with Minerva I would do without hesitation. The castle simply wanted to let me know that the Americans are coming and we should prepare."

"I hate when you do that!" Sirius angrily growled, and moved his knight. Severus simply chuckled.

"You know the rules, Sevvie, no Legilimens when we are mid-game, you know I hate occluding and I'm not back to my old self just yet!" Sirius looked at Severus, pouting in a childish way that made his bottom lip swell to a comical size and his eyes almost glisten as they widened.

"Fine...and don't call me Sevvie!"

"But you don't like being called Snivellus so…"

"So call me Severus, you are lucky I even let you call me by my first name!"

Sirius grinned, and the infectious mirth crept around Severus, making him smirk. Severus could not help but notice how youthful and, dare he say it, attractive Sirius seemed when in this sort of playful mood. He could see why Sirius, in his day and even now, could charm any witch he wanted. Underneath his musings, Severus was disturbed to note his attraction, but pushed it deep, deep within himself and, letting out a gruff cough to signal a changing of subject, he motioned to the board.

"It's your move…"


	13. The Third Chapter's Called Love

**A/N:**

 **The piece of music linked to this chapter is a tribute to another star snuffed out too soon, RIP Cadet! Serious it was peak how you went, but hopefully you're living it large wherever you are, and your music reaches out even after you are gone.**

 **This chapter is so lemony, you may want a cup of tea after to wash it down. You've been warned. R &R please :)**

 **Chapter 13 - The Third Chapter's Called Love**

 _...the third chapter's called love_

 _Ain't no soft shit, ain't no need for boohoo's_

 _But when I started loving myself_

 _Then I could love you like I used to_

 _Cadet - Letter to Krept_

"Ugh!"

For the nth time since they had moved into the castle together, Ron let out an exaggerated sigh and flopped languidly onto the love seat of the newly refurbished quarters he now inhabited with his husband, groaning loudly in his crippling boredom and chancing a quick glance at Draco, who was still in the throes of unpacking their shared belongings, allocating space to their belongings with a mere flick of his wand. Ron, who had never been overly keen on interior design, had thus far occupied his time preparing for his new position as Quidditch Professor, organising the rostrum for the academic year as well as managing to finagle a number of world class racing brooms for the students by using his influential connections as part of the Golden Trio, alongside his short lived career in professional quidditch. With everything organised for the start of term, Ron had found himself hard pressed for entertainment, and Draco had been fussing over the new role he was about to inhabit. Defense Against The Dark Arts at Hogwarts had widely been acknowledged to be a "cursed" subject, with professors throughout their childhoods coming and going as frequently as the morning post owls. The argument that had ensued when Draco had agreed to the position had rocked their marriage, but it was never unusual in the Weasley-Malfoy home for an argument to shake the walls, hexes to be thrown, crying and screaming to follow, and then there was the making up. Neither Ron or Draco had ever had feelings of such intensity for another person, and Ron had dated Hermione!

Ron watched Draco as he gracefully moved around the room, his OCD on full alert to everything that could be seen as out of place. Ron knew if he didn't stop him now, the room would be completely rearranged in the next ten minutes. The war had made Draco particularly self-aware, and he seemed to have adopted an almost abnormal necessity when at his most nervous to compartmentalise to the extreme. Ron still remembered the day Draco had "rearranged" his dad's shed, stating that the muggle tools were incorrectly laid out, the things that could catch alight too close to the things that gave of heat, and all sorts of other niggling issues that had made Arthur scratch his head in amazement, whilst Molly nearly teared up at the sight of a young man cleaning in her home, so rare was it an occurrence. That evening she had prepared Draco's favourite Weasley treat, a steaming hot stew with homemade onion bread, followed by one of Molly's legendary trifles, and the plumpening of Draco had began. At one point, Ron had joked that if he cleaned anymore, Draco ran the risk of actually becoming Molly. That had been the only reason Draco had accepted what he had, and endeavored to control this slight eccentricity, for fear of ever losing his 'masculine physique'.

Ron began to feel hungry, and his eyes fell upon his chosen morsel as Draco bent and stretched to rearrange his mini library, straightening the armchair in the corner space, and moving books to be in order of curriculum, then alphabetically, then by size and binding, and then starting again with curriculum. Swinging his long legs and taking a predatory stance, Ron slowly advanced upon his unwitting prey, a smirk crawling wickedly across his face. Draco was completely oblivious to the feral glint in his husbands eye, the way his limbs were honed to sweep between the boxes and cases without making a sound, years on a broom dodging bludgers and hulking quidditch players paying off. This was Ron's favourite game, and he always played to win. Advancing further, he filled the gap between himself and a now bent over Draco, and with one swift CRACK! he lay his palm squarely across Draco's behind, making him yelp in alarm and nearly topple to the ground.

"Damn it, Ronald!" Draco hissed angrily, straightening up and pulling himself into a token pureblood stance, his eyes seething with a fire that was swiftly changing into something more sultry when he took in his husband's craven leer.

"Now, you know I don't like when you talk to me like that, Drakey, it makes you sound like Hermione…" Ron allowed the words to ooze from his lips in a silky growl that he knew would set Draco's pulse alight. He'd learned that trick very early on in their relationship, and pulled the card whenever the opportunity arose.

Draco had began to crumble as Ron licked his lips suggestively, and knew he had a couple of seconds to fight or fly, Master Ron was out to play, and it was speak now or forever hold your peace. Draco cocked an eyebrow and then let his eyes coarse the length of his husbands body, thinking it would be best to simply hold his peace, because like hell was he going to ignore his husband looking _like that_. Draco allowed his shoulders to loosen and he looked coquettishly into his husbands eyes, realising that perhaps a break from the unpacking was warranted. After all, Ron had been very patient throughout the packing and unpacking process, and Draco was fully aware that his OCD was on full blast as he moved from room to room of The Burrow, packing up their belongings. It had not dampened upon their arrival at the castle, and although Ron had managed to keep him relatively occupied for the first week, with the added introduction of the new staff and students, Draco was now absorbing his new, yet old, surroundings, and in all honesty he was finding it a struggle. He thanked the Gods each day for Ron - an ironic statement given their history - whose joie de vivre and overwhelming love and support (as well as his notorious laziness) had given him an outlet for his worries. This would be the first place he had lived in since the Burrow, and before that the Manor. Returning to Hogwarts had been a daunting challenge, the memories still resonating deeply within Draco's soul. He knew what he had been here, a miniature carbon copy of his father, and he hated the recollection of how he had been coached into behaving. He was only a child, and this place had meant to protect him. He still felt a bitterness at Dumbledore's blatant favouritism, and the demonising of his house to the point he felt he was given no other real choice in how his path was laid. The only hope he had seen was provided by his godfather and Head of House, Professor Snape, who had attempted to keep his snakes out of the fire for as long as possible, before his untimely demise.

When Professor Snape, now Uncle Severus once more, had stepped out of the floo on that fateful day, followed by the Minister for Magic himself and, later, joined by Remus Lupin, Draco had allowed himself the scope of the new emotions he had nurtured at The Burrow, and cried in his godfather's arms in relief and joy. Although initially surprised, the encounter had been mutually emotional, and Snape had held tightly to the boy who was the closest to a son he had ever known, and allowed him to cry as he always had. The catch up afterwards had been surprising, as Severus had neither been shocked or showed distaste at Draco's pairing, and had made a show of thanking Molly and Arthur for taking better care of his godson than his own parents had been able. Draco had always thought that, had his father not been such a formidable influence on the home, his mother would have been given more scope to be a better parent, without the constraints of pureblood societal propriety. In fact, Draco had always suspected that his mother and Molly shared many similarities, so it was no surprise post the incarceration of Lucius that Molly and Narcissa had become close friends, at least it was not to Draco. Snape had blessed his union with Ron, and had even teased about the arrangements of the last names, with Draco always needing to have the Malfoy name. He had since visited them in their living quarters at Hogwarts, and had set a floo connection between his private lounge and theirs in case of any, as he put it, 'marital incidents' where Ron may need to escape.

Right now, however, escape was the last thing Ron was emanating as he drew his husband close and gripped the hair that was growing long and silken at the nape of Draco's neck. He tilted Draco's head to the side roughly, capturing the soft and sensitive skin of his neck just below his ear, his favourite spot, and nibbling hungrily whilst slowly rubbing the length of Draco's back with his free hand, eventually grasping both his hands in his own large hand, pinning him against him in a possessive, feral grip. Draco mewled in his onslaught, hitching his breath when the menstruations sent a bolt of lightning through him, straight to his heart and groin. Draco could never deny Ron when he was in this mood, nor would he ever want to. Draco longed for control in most of the areas of his life, which led him to moments where he would forget to actually live it. Ron was the complete opposite, and as his luxuriously thick auburn beard tickled Draco's neck, along with his sharp teeth and wicked tongue, Draco felt his need for control being replaced with his need to please the only person who knew him so deeply and truly. Draco pulled away slightly to look into his husband's eyes and lick his lips suggestively, flexing his fingers within Ron's secure grip. A cat like grin spread across Ron's face as he let go, his free hand stroking Draco's long locks. He had originally hated that Draco's hair seemed to grow exactly like his father's, however as time went on Draco restyled and rearranged it to look like the muggle manga characters. He played with a loose strand, tucking it behind Draco's ear and allowing his smile to broaden to one filled with so much love, concern and care it hitched Draco's breath to see it.

"Come to bed?" Ron breathed huskily, his now lidding eyes smoldering.

"How could I resist such an offer?" Draco smirked back, slipping his fingers to intertwine with Ron's hands and lead his lover to their newly arranged bedchamber. It was in the moments of utter bliss like this that Draco felt truly blessed, and he was going to make sure Ron knew how happy he was.

In silence they came to the bed together, the passion intensifying as they gripped each other in a firm embrace, the planes of their bodies melding into one as they ran their tongues, hands and any other possible unclothed extremity against each other. It was not long before every offending garment of clothing had been removed and the couple were reveling in their glorious nakedness together beneath the sheets of their king sized four poster bed. Draco allowed a stray thought of thanking Minerva for the exquisite living quarters to cross his mind before returning to the pleasures he was experiencing with the man who he proudly said was the love of his life.

It was in this moment of lucency Ron pounced, pinning Draco desirously to the mattress and playfully laying full body across him, claiming his mouth in a heated, avaricious kiss that seemed to cover Draco's very bones in molten lava. Draco ran his hands greedily over the muscles and contours of Ron's back as he felt the warmth of Ron's length rubbing against his abdomen, hard and ready to take him. With a movement of his hips and a positioning at his entrance, Ron claimed his husband with a primitive grunt, sweat beginning to bead with the effort of control he was maintaining, stopping himself from losing himself by thrusting powerfully into the tight cavity. Draco moaned loudly at the contact, adjusting to the persistent throbbing of Ron's length and girth. The exquisite ecstasy of being molded into one being consumed Draco, and he felt his magic reach out and blend with Ron's wild power, both cocooning them in their lovemaking.

When he was ready, Draco let out a deep breath and looked once again into the warm and patient eyes of his husband, who had given him a moment to prepare for what was to come. With a nod and growl of ascent, Ron began to move, slowly at first, then gaining momentum with every sound Draco wrought, his lover's passion spurring him forward. Draco reached between them to grab his own throbbing member, preparing himself as he felt Ron tighten and his movements become erratic. The intertwining of their magics swirled around them, almost dancing at the joyous love emanating for the couple as, together, they found a strong and monumental release. Draco clung to Ron briefly, and Ron in turn moved so that Draco was placed in his "spot", in the centre of his chest, Draco's hand lazily playing with the mop of chest hair tangled closest to his grasp. As they lay, panting and sated, Draco felt his lids grow heavier as Ron's breathing steadied beneath him, and as the light show their magic always seemed to produce began to fade, so to did Draco's resolve, and they both tumbled into a peaceful and calm sleep, with all thoughts of arrangements, the curriculum, students, and any other mess crumbling to ash as they settled into a contented sleep.

_o0o_

Eric was unaccustomed to using such archaic, and confusing, modes of communication, however he petted the owl that had daintily fluttered onto his overly exuberant, overly Celtic themed bedspread. Eric, who had decided to languish in the luxury provided by his wealth and affluence rather than rush to meet with the barrage from Bon Temps, and in so doing he had allowed his mind to wander to the last time he was in Scotland. Following the multiple meetings between the wizards and other magical creatures, Eric had made many contributions to the restoration of the wizarding world, purchasing properties in and around wizarding pockets and making a killing, so to speak, from the turnover of wizarding businesses. He had even invested in a joke shop, of all things, though he couldn't deny the energy, determination and persistence of the owner, a young man who had recently lost his twin brother and co-conspirator in many of the designs during SWW, was enough to charm even the most stoic of businessmen. Of course, it had nothing to do with the fact that he had discovered his mate was an honorary member of that particular family, although it did not help with the natural possessiveness when the home was inundated with males, and one of whom she had previously had a fleeting relationship with. Eric was reminded of family life long, long ago, and the village atmosphere of the Weasley home seemed to be almost appealing after the millennia of being sectioned off from real warmth, or hiding in the coffin at least. Vampires are solitary, only mingling in nests when one strong vampire feels the need to create a hive around itself for protection. Eric was so accustomed to solitude, it had taken a dynamite blonde with an extra splash of fae blood to have him even contemplate being part of a family home. Now, years on from Sookie and all that crumbled in the wake of that relationship, Eric found himself contemplating the benefits of family, and in particular the settling down with his mate and giving her all she would desire as a life mate. Humming a long forgotten Nordic lullaby nonchalantly he opened the parchment deposited by the owl, who was now perched atop one poster snoozing softly.

The script was small, delicate, and infinitely rushed, with splotches of ink where the author had clearly been in the middle of several things before responding. It was brief, but still held in it's feminine calligraphy the nuances of the curves of her face, the aroma of her subtle perfume lingering to the parchment, mingling with the tart ink and fainter still smell of owl. Eric held it to his nose and revel in the scent, like a pervert with a pair of used underwear. He chuckled at his own childish behaviour, but also felt himself stiffen at the sheer thought of what the paper had to say. She would be there, tomorrow, but she had to go to somewhere and do something Eric had little to no interest in prior to meeting them in Hogsmeade at his newly opened bar, V, a sophisticated whiskey club renovated from a disused muggle whisky distillery on the outskirts of the wizarding village. She would be bringing her friends, so she had bossed that he needed to ensure they were on the guest list. One sentence in particular made him chuckle, as she had questioned what Sookie would be wearing that evening, in a style almost suggesting that there may be a drop of jealousy in his mate that he would have to dispel, as any thought of her emotional anguish made him ache to sooth her. The euphoria of having a mate was a completely alien experience for Eric when it was first discovered by his blessed little bookworm, however now that they had begun their journey, though at a slower pace than he would have desired, as per her wishes. Although he would never want others to know of this apparent weakness that had developed, he could not help but daydream languidly about the life they could lead. Granted, it would not be the 2.4 children life many craved, however his little hellcat was not the type to want to settle for babies, a dog, a mortgage, and all the other comforts many people crave. She was a creature of adventure, forged in the fires of a war that still baffled Eric. Having met Dumbledore as a very young man, it didn't surprise Eric at all that the remarkable wizard would become a zealot, bigot and madman in the end, whether the wizarding world would ever vilify such a "sainted figure" was another question entirely. It pleased Eric, upon meeting his mate's friends and family, that they held no overzealous relatability to what Albus Dumbledore had believed to be the "greater good", as it seems he was happy to use children in a war to achieve a victory for "the Light". This reminded Eric of why so many stayed out of wizarding politics, it made no sense and rested solely on the idea that magic would solve every problem.

Eric penned a quick note back, expressing the brief platitudes he was accustomed too, and adding an extra pinch of spice that he knew would get a rise out of her...the mere thought certainly did out of him. He called down the now sleep addled owl, attached his note, and sent it into the cold Scottish night. Now for the task ahead. He stretched every limb and climbed out of the decadent bedspread, striding over to his wardrobe and picking the most striking cobalt blue suit for his evening festivities, with the sheer thought of how Sookie and Lafayette would be surviving this weather drawing a chuckle from his as he slipped into the expensive Italian fabric, straightened and pinned his cuff links, and finalised his look with a well selected matching tartan pocket square. With a final check over of his apparel, Eric took an unnecessary breath in and left to join his confused consort and the crew of magical misfits destined to help rebuild this world...and potentially help save it if what Eric had heard from Hermione was true...


End file.
